6. Looking for Clues

LOOKING FOR CLUES

ANDREW

I read the ransom note over Ms. Northernfield's shoulder, following along as she reads aloud. "I have your children. I'll trade them back to you for an official writ of divorce separating Catriona Ildogis from Leland Lane, plus an official marriage certificate showing that Catriona and Andrew Lane are wed. Except for the Northernfield kid. Since his father is Andrew Lane, I'll raise him so he can take Albert's place. It's what I should have done when the girl showed up in my office."

"What!" I explode, before Ms. Northernfield can read more. I spin her to face me.

Wide angry eyes glare up at me. "Did you set this in motion?" she demands. "You've got some nerve! I tried to find you, and all I came up with is an old man who seemed to think he owned the world. I ran away from him before my baby was born. Thanks to Kate and her family, we've been fine. Just fine, until you show up with a whole raft of royal relatives."

"Madeline?" I say, her face and name finally appearing out of my mental fog. "You are Madeline who says, ‘pooh, pooh' to the lions in the zoo? That Madeline?"

"Yeah," she says, poking me in the chest. "And now I say, fuck you! Where is my son?"

"The party," I say, the memory finally making its way up through the tangled mess that is my traumatized brain. "I was high on the news that I was shipping out with the next Peace Corps contingent, going to work with Doctors Without Borders. God, I was so glad to get out of the States."

"And you didn't give a rat's ass as to who or what you left behind!" She jabs me again with that finger. It hurts like a surgical knife. She's cutting the heart right out of me. "You left me a disconnected number for a business that didn't exist. It took an investigation to discover your identity. And what did it get me? It got me threats from Rodri Andrew Aims, the head of Aims Corporation, the biggest, dirtiest business in New York City, that's what!"

"You spoke to my grandfather?" I say, still trying to process all of this. What the heck did Grandfather Aims have to do with this? The Lanes had cut ties with Aims Corporation before I was born.

"I just explained that!" she says. "And now he's got my baby, after all I went through to keep us out of the news, from being noticed. I even gave up my scholarship. You asshole!" She curls her little hands into fists and pounds them against my chest.

"Madeline," I say, trying to calm her. I feel like the worst kind of jerk. Tears are running down her face, and her mouth is set in a deep frown. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was out of the country. We didn't get much in the way of mail. Two of the caravans that might have had mail were sacked and everything burned. I was badly injured in the second incident, and spent months in the hospital. I would have come home if I had known. At the very least, I would have sent money. I am so sorry."

"So am I!" she shoots back at me. "You're just another deadbeat dad, who's trying to apologize nine years too late. Well, here's a news bulletin for you Doctor Lane, while you were out being Clara Barton or Dr. Livingstone, I was dealing with the bureaucrats of medical school, part-time jobs, Medicaid, food stamps, and WIC. Now that Paul and I are doing well you turn up and get him k-kidnapped."

She breaks then, bursting into incoherent cries of rage and grief, beating on my chest with both fists as hard as she can. I catch her in my arms and grab both her hands in mine.. I hold her still, while she sobs, getting my shirt front soaked with tears. I keep trying to process the astounding news. I have a son? One of the kids running around here is my son? And Grandfather Aims knows? Did Richard know?

I feel rage start to boil within me. That old son of a bitch. No wonder Dad had tried so hard to get me to come home. I always knew there was more to that visit than just simple family goodwill. If only father had just come out and told me! But no, he had to be cryptic and pretend that it was just that I was missed. "Come home, all is forgiven," that kind of crap. And now he's gone and I'm nine years too late to help Maddy with my son.

"We'll find him," I say instead of all the things I'm thinking. "Moor Security is supposed to be excellent with kidnapping cases. I'm sorry, Madeline. So, so sorry. If I'd known, I would have come home. I would have stayed or I would have taken you with me."

Then I remember barely escaping Mountain Hold with our lives, airlifted out by Lane Enterprises, taken to Ildogis with Leland so he could fulfill the arranged marriage contract my father and mother had made with Tulok Ildogis, that clever old bastard.

Some of what I was saying must be getting through to Madeline, because her sobs taper off to quiet weeping, then sniffles. I hold her, warm and alive, the girl-woman who had filled my dreams as I lay on a camp cot trying to catch some sleep between rounds of nursing cases of malaria, snakebites, and gunshot wounds while recovering from my own wounds and illness. After the accident, I was never sure if she was real, or if she was a fragment of my fever dreams.

The warmth goes straight to my crotch. As inappropriate as it is in these circumstances, I feel stirrings in my pants as my cock tries to rise to the occasion. She's had my attention all day. Now I've learned she is the girl of my actual dreams. She is the sweet woman who gave me the greatest send-off any sailor or soldier could wish for. I shift slightly so she won't think I'm trying to take advantage of her, while still keeping her hands trapped between us. Her strong little surgeon's hands, that I've watched skillfully taking care of patients all day.

She was going to be a doctor, not a nurse practitioner. Had I derailed that ambition? Probably. Getting an MD is both arduous and expensive. But she hadn't let it stop her from fulfilling at least part of her plans. I marvel at the strength of her, both spirit and body. But right now, we need to find her son. Our son.

The enormity of it hits me, and I bend my head over her, cradling her head in the crook of my neck. "Shh, shh," I sooth her. "We'll find him. We will not let Grandfather do to Catriona and Leland what he did to Albert and Amari, Leland's parents." And to Deborah, my mother. Because that was never a happy marriage.

I settle her into a corner of a battered, but comfortable couch. My American siblings have money to burn, but they've kept this disreputable, overstuffed monster. It sags under my weight, but it snuggles us like a well-padded nanny or grandmother. I guess that's why it has survived. It must be someone's treasured item.

The old woman from the garden brings a cup of wine. "See if you can get her to drink this," she says. "It will take the edge off while we figure out what to do."

"I don't want it," Maddy says. "I need my head clear."

That I could understand. "A cup of tea?" I suggest. "Coffee?"

"Tea," she says, "Green with honey and lemon. Or mint. I need to clear my sinuses."

"Are you allergic to eucalyptus?" I ask.

She shakes her head to indicate no, while searching her pockets. I make a guess that she is looking for facial tissue or a hanky. I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket.

My father, Albert Lane, didn't have many habits worth emulating, but he had always said that a prepared gentleman always had two things in his pocket: a handkerchief and a pocket knife. The latter isn't legal on airplanes these days but I'd picked up a nice folding knife and a large stack of handkerchiefs at Johnson's Pawn and Head shop in Freedom.

In another pocket, I carry my own version of smelling salts – a concoction of eucalyptus and mint, in a coconut oil base. "Rub this on your upper lip," I say.

She follows my directions, and begins to breathe easier. But her eyes have not lost that stricken look. I've seen it often enough, in the shabby medical tents where we went to bring what healing help we could, where we could. I never thought I would see it here, in the United States, on the face of the woman in my dreams.

The grandmotherly woman returns with a steaming cup of tea. Madeline takes it, and sips. "Alright. I'm all right," she says. "What is being done?"

I marvel at her strength and resilience.

The woman says, "Austin, Julia and the security team have all the dogs out tracking starting from where we last saw the children. Richard has gone to Spindizzy hospital to talk to the man who was stabbed today. He says it is too much of a coincidence that he was roughed up because he refused to do something. He hopes that the gentleman might be able to identify his attackers. Better yet, he hopes that he knows them."

Madeline nods, trying to take it all in. I can see that although she hears the words, they probably aren't making much sense.

"Anything else?" I ask.

The woman nods. "Charles is manning the phones, just in case another ransom call or note comes in. Pops is out alerting what he calls the ‘old coot' brigade. Folks don't pay much attention to middle-aged or old men puttering around in their yards, walking in the park or just sitting on a bench in the sun. He's hoping someone saw something or heard something."

Kate adds, "My brother, James, is too far away to help much, but he is running a search with Austin's digital security analyst."

"Did you check the hospitals? The traffic reports? The morgue?" Madeline asks. "The note could be a fake. What about buses, and other public transport? Is there any way to check with Uber?"

She's pulled herself together so fast! She might not be thinking with complete clarity, but she is thinking. I try to come up with anything useful. "I can check the hospitals," I say. "I'm just getting my credentials re-established, but they should carry me that far. And I can do morgues at the same time." I can think of no good reason to put Madeline through that search.

"I've got traffic notifications and arrest records," Slugger Lane, Richard's oldest son says. "I just learned about public records in my last civics class."

One by one, each person in the room selects a task, and quickly begins doing it. I want to be outside with the security team and the dogs, but I don't know the area.

Charles says, "Cece has been kidnapped before. She and Paul both have good heads on their shoulders. I am sure they will look after Isabel. They will be doing their best to leave a breadcrumb trail or some other way to let us know where they are."

The man looks calm and collected, as he sits with one arm around Kate and with his other child cuddled close. But to anyone who has been in a stressful situation, it is clear that he is holding himself together for the sake of his wife and baby. He probably wants to be out there as much as I do, but old war wounds have left him with a permanent limp.

As for me, I have found the woman who has occupied my dreams for years. I've also learned that I have a son, and perhaps have lost him all on the same day.