Chapter 31

Mallowater, TX, 1989

Caroline reviewed the list of everything she needed before she backed out of the driveway. She was rushing this, but a deranged man grabbing Sloan at Leo's Drug Emporium had sped everything up. "Just let Sloan come stay with us awhile," Libby had said. "No need for you to leave town without having a solid plan."

But Caroline couldn't chance it. It was time to get Ridge back. It was time to get the hell out of Texas.

It could have been random, another stranger abduction like that Pruitt boy years ago, but what were the odds? Caroline feared someone was on to her. Just as she'd taken Ridge away from Jay, someone was trying to take Sloan away from her. And she couldn't go to the police. If the cops knew someone tried to kidnap Sloan, they might wonder if someone took Ridge, too. Then, Jay might get a new trial. He might get away with everything.

Caroline had told the kids they'd move to New York. She had an old college friend she'd counted on crashing with, but that was before their story became national news. One of her old Cornell professors had even sent her a sympathy card. She couldn't just show up there with her daughter and dead son. But hopefully, she could show up with them in Columbus, Ohio. She would be able to continue her studies there in avian biology. No, it wasn't Cornell, but she'd read about a large crow roost in a nearby town.

This would not be as easy as she'd planned. They'd all have to change their names. Vince knew a guy who would help with that. And Sloan and Ridge would have to homeschool for a while. Give people plenty of time to forget Ridge's face and story.

She'd call Walt in the morning and tell him she and Sloan just needed to get away—that they were going to sort out her dad's estate in Ohio. Walt didn't need to know that the estate was in Oklahoma and was already settled. In fact, it was the money from the sale of her father's house that sat in the safe in her back seat, along with his pistol.

Caroline would eventually tell Walt that they'd decided to stay in Ohio. Then she'd return to get another load of items and ready the house for sale. But if something prevented her from returning, they had everything they needed and enough money to get by for a while.

Sloan hardly spoke during the first leg of their drive. She just leaned against the window, listening to her sad country songs. Country music made Caroline think of Jay, and thus, she could never enjoy it again. She was glad to kill the engine—and the radio—when they filled up the tank at the By and Buy.

Despite the tough times that lay ahead, Caroline was looking forward to reuniting with her baby boy. Ridge had probably grown an inch since she saw him.

Caroline parked and glanced at the clock on the dash. They were early. She needed coffee for the fourteen-hour drive ahead of her to Ohio. It would be hard, but then they could crash in a hotel tomorrow night, and Caroline would wake up Monday refreshed and ready for apartment hunting.

Caroline grabbed her purse. "Are you hungry?"

"Why would I be hungry at one in the morning?"

Caroline clenched her fists. Leave it to her teenage daughter to suck the joy right out of the car.

Caroline walked inside and bought a large cup of coffee, telling the weary woman at the counter to keep the change. A decision she immediately second-guessed. Caroline didn't want to stand out in anyone's memory, and that gesture may have set her apart from other customers.

She regained her composure. It wasn't a big deal if someone remembered her or Sloan stopping here. As long as they didn't see Ridge getting into her car, everything would be fine.

Why had Libby suggested meeting here? A secluded place might be smarter, but then again, not necessarily. Two cars in a field at this hour might stand out; two cars at a gas station would not.

Caroline wondered if she'd be on edge like this for the rest of her life—thinking through each step, looking over her shoulder? She hoped not, but if this was how it had to be, it was worth it to see Jay punished. Anything was worth that.

They weren't here. Why weren't they here? The Turners were never late to anything and were forty minutes late. Forty minutes. Caroline felt a physical pressure inside her—like she was being squeezed. She grasped the sides of her head and breathed deeply, trying to regain control. When it didn't work, she went back inside for a pack of cigarettes. She didn't let the cashier keep the change this time.

Sloan was awake when Caroline made it back to the car. "Mom? What's wrong?"

"I don't know, Sloan. I don't know what's wrong," she said, fumbling to open her cigarettes. Why did they wrap them up in plastic? It would just end up in a landfill somewhere. "Dammit!" she screamed, throwing them against the dash.

Sloan reached across to unwrap the package. "Here you go." Sloan handed her a cigarette.

"Thanks." She lit the cigarette and took the first puff. Her heart resumed its regular rhythm, and Caroline told herself that this was all just a misunderstanding.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Sloan said. "And I'm thirsty."

"There's money in my wallet. Get whatever you want. This is all a misunderstanding. It will be okay. We'll be on the road soon." Maybe saying it out loud would make it real.

Caroline couldn't just sit in the car and wait. She got out and paced in front of the store, smoking in the cool night air. She saw the pay phone, and it hit her. Libby and Vince had probably overslept. Or maybe their car wouldn't start, and they had no way to reach her. She just needed to call and tell them she wouldn't mind driving all the way to Baton Rouge if she needed to.

Caroline put in her change, dialed the Turners' number, and listened to the phone ring and ring. At first, she thought she must have misdialed. Why else had their machine not picked up? On the second try, by the twentieth ring, every muscle in Caroline's body went limp.

"Who are you trying to call?" Sloan was suddenly standing right beside her. How long had she been there?

"It's a misunderstanding. It will be okay. We'll be on the road soon," she said to herself.

"It's cold, Mom. Come to the car and wait. I got a Lunchable. We can split it."

"I could call the police," Caroline said, but what would she say? That the people she used to help her fake her son's death had kidnapped him? "No, no, I can't."

Sloan put her arm around Caroline. "Come on. Let's get you in the car and warmed up. We'll call again in fifteen minutes."

And Caroline called back every fifteen minutes on the dot. She used every nickel, dime, and quarter she had in her wallet, then tore apart her car to find more. But they never answered, and their car never pulled up beside hers. Adrenaline rushed through Caroline's body. How could they? She picked up a bag of ice and slammed it down onto the concrete.

Even if they'd had car troubles on the way, that didn't explain the removal of their answering machine. Libby had been acting so weird and distant. She hardly ever let Caroline talk to Ridge.

Caroline grabbed a clump of her hair and pulled. They'd taken her boy. Libby was barren. She'd pretended to be her friend when all she wanted was a child, Caroline's child.

"I can't believe this happened. How could it happen?" Caroline's chest ached. Was she hyperventilating or having a heart attack? She recognized she was losing control but wasn't sure how to rein her emotions back in.

"I don't know, but it's almost morning." Sloan spoke in a gentle tone that Caroline had never known her sharp-tongued daughter to have. "We can figure this out later, but let's go home, please."

Caroline started to cry. She didn't want to go home, but maybe a message was waiting on her machine. Better yet, maybe Ridge was waiting there for her. "Yes. I guess there's nothing we can do but go home."

Ridge wasn't at home. There was no message on the machine. "Go to bed," she told Sloan. "Sleep in. If you wake up and I'm gone, it's because I have business in Tyler later today. Call Doreen if you need anything."

"Are you sure you're okay, Mom?" Sloan asked.

"Yes. Now go to bed. Forget any of this happened."

As soon as Sloan climbed into bed, Caroline called Libby's number again and was met with a message that the number had been disconnected. What is going on? She didn't know their address, so she dug through an enormous stack of mail, praying she hadn't thrown away the envelope from the birthday card Libby had sent her.

She tossed bill after bill on the floor until she got to the lavender envelope. Yes, this was it! "Thank you, God, thank you, God," she said aloud.

Lavender envelope in hand, Caroline walked right back out the door and drove to Louisiana.

It was nearly noon by the time Caroline made it to the Turners. She held on to the tiniest bit of hope until she spotted the house.

The house was large and red-bricked with a green manicured lawn. Libby's signature rose bushes bloomed right behind a shiny black "For Sale" sign.

Caroline got out of the car and ran toward the neighbor's house. A woman with a baby on her hip answered the door. "Can I help you?"

Caroline tried to steady her voice, but she couldn't hide her breathlessness. "Vince and Libby Turner? Did they live next door?"

"Yes," the woman said, locking the screen door.

"Any idea where they moved?"

"No, sorry. We weren't very close." She attempted to close the door, but Caroline spoke again. "Was there anyone else they were close to?"

The woman bit her lip. "I never saw anyone over. Check with LSU. He worked there."

Yes. LSU. Why hadn't she thought of that? "Can I borrow your phone to . . ." before she finished, the woman slammed the door. Bitch.

Luckily the man across the street was kinder. He didn't know where they'd moved, but Vince had mentioned they weren't fond of the area and had been applying for other jobs, so it didn't surprise him to see the sign yesterday morning. Yesterday morning. They must have left right after Caroline had talked to Libby to solidify their plans for that night. How could they?

The old man let her use his phone, where she called LSU and spoke to the department head, who had no idea where Vince had moved to.

They might be anywhere. She would never find them.

Caroline knew that Vince had connections. Libby had hinted that Vince's father and brother had ties to organized crime. Caroline had always wondered if that's how the Turners made so much money. She wiped a puddle of sweat from her forehead.

Caroline called the realtor listed on the sign next. He told her that Vince and Libby had only been renting the house with plans to buy one of the homes being built in a new subdivision close to LSU. However, they'd unexpectedly decided to move out of town with two months still remaining on their lease and had left no forwarding address. "The owner has had enough of these unreliable renters just skipping out, so he's decided to sell." The realtor had one of those salesman voices, like Jay. "There's an open house next week if you're in the market. It's a great property."

Caroline hung up and wiped more sweat from her forehead. Renting. Caroline knew then that stealing Ridge and leaving Louisiana had been Libby's plan all along. Why else would the Turners do something so beneath them? So "middle class," as Vince would say.

"Forgive me for asking, but is there a reason you need to get in touch with them so badly?" the kindly neighbor asked. "Are you okay? You don't look well."

Libby stole my Ridge. They kidnapped my son, and I can never tell without implicating myself in his disappearance. Of course, I'm not frickin' okay. I'll never be okay again.

Caroline stood to leave. "Thank you for letting me borrow your phone." She couldn't even manage a smile. "They just owed me some money is all."

"You found them?" Caroline leaned over the private investigator's desk. Three months of searching, and he'd finally found them. "Where are they?"

Mr. Garcia looked down at the folder on his desk. "El Paso."

Caroline couldn't figure out why he didn't look happier about this news. Maybe he had just realized he could no longer bill Caroline an exorbitant amount of money each month with nothing to show for it.

She tapped her foot against her chair. "Do you have an address?"

He loosened his collar. "That's the thing, Ms. Radel. An associate found their house on Friday. He returned Saturday, and they were gone."

Caroline's insides vibrated. "What do you mean gone?"

"The Turners had left, moved out. The owners said they gave no notice at all."

"So, they saw your guy?" Caroline raised her voice. "What kind of PI is dumb enough to be seen?"

Mr. Garcia held up his hands. "These things happen sometimes. I can assure you that he was as careful as possible."

"No!" Caroline slammed her hand on the desk. "He wasn't careful at all, or they'd still be there."

"I understand you're upset. But we found them. I suspect they realize you're looking for them and thus are keeping their guard up."

Caroline sank back in her chair. "Okay, so what's next? Back to square one?"

He closed the folder. "That's all up to you, Ms. Radel. You already put a lot of money into this. I suspect it will cost just as much or more to locate them again. And, of course, there are no guarantees."

Caroline covered her face with her hands. As much or more? If she weren't careful, her inheritance would disappear, and then what? How would she pay her bills? How would she take care of Sloan?

"Don't get me wrong," he said. "I'll be glad to continue working the case. You mentioned the Turners owed you money. I guess you have to ask yourself if the amount they owe is worth the amount you are spending to find them." He drummed his fingers on the desk. "Unless you have another motive for locating them. Either way, it's your decision to make."

Caroline's skin prickled. He suspected something. Or else he would if she continued searching. She'd hired this private investigator out of Dallas on purpose, so he wouldn't know who she was—wouldn't know who Ridge was if he found them, but she was kidding herself. Their story had made national news. If she kept this up and one of these detectives recognized Ridge, she was signing her own warrant.

"You're right," she said, forcing her shaky legs to stand. "It's not worth the money at this point. Thank you for your help. I'll mail you your last payment."

Mr. Garcia stood and gave a sympathetic nod. "I'm sorry, Ms. Radel, but sometimes you just have to cut your losses and move on."