7. The Search

THE SEARCH

MADDY

After watching Dr. Lane call hospital after hospital, getting no news from them, I begin a phone search of my own.

I call the homeless shelters, and my contacts in the tent cities that still abound in the area. It is a lot like Pops Quinn's "old coot" search. Local people notice things that strangers to an area do not. Mimi Quinn brings me a fresh cup of hot tea. I don't want it, but she is doing her best to help, so I accept it.

The room takes on a call center atmosphere. Low voices, hushed phones, people with worried faces, scared faces, yet all intent on doing their part. Between calls to my contacts, I watch Dr. Lane. Before today, he didn't know that he had a son. Yet he is taking part in the search. Each call to emergency rooms and reception desks is quiet, professional, calm. I feel hope rising as each one comes back "no". At least my son is not in a hospital somewhere.

I go back to my own calls. After what seems like hundreds of calls, but were probably fewer than twenty since that is how many contacts outside family I have on my phone, I get an answer.

"Hello?" a rough female voice says.

"Grace," I say, "this is Ms. Northernfield, from the clinic."

"Oh, yeah, I remember you," the woman says. "Did I forget an appointment again?"

"Not this time," I reply. "But I am hoping you can help me. Some of the children have wandered off. I know you camp in the grove, and that Mimi and Pops have given you permission. Is there any chance you might have seen them?"

"I might have," the woman says. "I saw a bunch of kids come down to the edge of the grove. Then this skinny little slick lookin' guy comes along, says something to them, and they go with him."

"Which way?" I ask. "Did you see where they went?"

"I didn't follow them," she says back. "But they went toward that new housing development. You know, the one that's almost finished, but is still empty. Utilities aren't turned on yet."

"Ok," I say. I don't ask how she knows that the utilities are not on. Sometimes it is best not to know. "That helps. Any idea what time it was?"

The room around me has grown still and silent. I put her on speaker phone.

"Not sure," she says. "But I know it was getting late, because it had cooled off a little, at least back in the shade. I was in a thick part of the orange grove, picking up windfalls to eat. Mrs. Quinn said I could."

"Yes, yes, that's fine," I say. "Can you tell me anything more about the man who met the children?"

"Well," she seems to pause to think, "I'd guess he was around five foot six or seven, not real tall for a guy. Skinny as a rail, dark brown hair. He had kind of a swarthy skin, like an Eye-talion." She gave Italian a midwestern pronunciation. "I was close enough that I heard him say, "Come along. Your grandfather wants you. And they went."

"Thanks, Grace," I say. "That helps. Will you be in the grove tonight?"

"I dunno," she says. "I might go up to Miz Hubbard's. It's kinda scary out here tonight. Men walkin' around with dogs and stuff."

"That's our security team looking for the kids," I say. "They won't hurt you. But go to Mrs. Hubbard if it makes you feel better. Can you keep your phone on?"

"For you, Ms. Northernfield, you bet I can. Is it your boy that's missing?" Her voice loses the rough edge, and sounds concerned.

"Yes," I say. "One of them. There should be three."

"That's what I saw," she says. "Let me know if those little lambs make it home alright."

"I will," I say. "Bye, now."

"Someone saw them!" Andrew exclaims.

"Yes," I say. "She's a homeless woman who camps on Quinn property."

"Reliable?" he asks.

I shrug. "Pretty much. For something like this, anyhow. I wouldn't try to get her into a courtroom. She'd ghost us, quick as anything."

Charles was already on the phone. "Austin?"

HIs phone squawks, then he says. "Yeah, at the edge of the orange grove. Went out toward the unfinished housing development." He pauses to listen. "Yeah, that's the one. Tried to purchase the fallow vineyard last year. Call us as soon as you know anything."

We all gaze at Charles expectantly.

"Austin has the dogs on it," he says. "He's got Gidget. She can find Cece no matter where she is."

Charles says, "I just hope she doesn't yap and give everything away. But she will find Cece if she's anywhere close by."

"No point making more calls right now," Kate says. "Let's keep the phone lines open."

I want to scream at her that we need to keep looking. But she's right. If any of the children have their phones, and if their captors let them keep them, they might try to call us. Or Austin might call, saying he has them, or Grace might check in with us.

The room becomes quiet. Andrew folds up his phone. It is one of those old flip phones, not a smartphone like most of us carry now. He had moved away to make phone calls, but now comes back to me. "May I sit here?" he asks.

I shrug. "It's a big couch."

"Madeline," he says, settling on the edge of the middle cushion. His voice has that same musical quality I remember. "I am so sorry about the phone number. About everything. The bus I was in overturned and caught fire, and all our possessions were destroyed. I had a head injury, and was in a hospital for almost six months.. I dreamed about you, but I was never sure if you were real. Grandfather probably did think I was dead, since our clinic head passed the word that there were no survivors. It was safer for us that way."

"I see," I say. And I kind of did. It explained why he didn't recognize me at first. And why Mr. Aims was desperate for an heir. But if he'd treated me decently, I probably would have been glad for Paul to have a secure future – right up until I learned how Aims made his money and then it would have been too late.

I draw a shuddering breath, and he puts his arm around my shoulders. It is a gentle, tentative gesture, giving me room to slip out of it if I want. I check in with myself. I'm not getting chills or electric flashes of sensation over my skin like in the romance novels, but I feel warm, and safe. I let myself relax against him, and he gently tightens the arm, drawing me in.

"We will find him," he says, "And the other children, too. Do they have a grandfather here?"

I nod. "Pops Quin. If someone walked up to them and said, ‘your grandfather wants you', that's probably what Cece or even Paul would think."

"With so many relatives here, and not all of them known to each other, ‘your grandfather', would have been the magic words."

Charles, who has Kate and his youngest child cuddled up with him on another dilapidated couch says, "Cece and I are going to have a long talk about trusting grownups."

The room gets quiet. Andrew's arm around me is a safe haven. With Paul missing, I should be keyed up with nerves, but the truth is, I'm exhausted. Waiting is hard work. I fall into a sleepy haze, caught between hope and despair.

It has been a long time since anyone held me. I was afraid to date after I ran from Aims. I was almost afraid to apply for nursing school, even though with my education background I was a shoo-in. I even moved from a cheap but comfortable apartment because I started receiving bouquets and flowers from "Anonymous Admirer".

I should not feel so comfortable with this man, but I do. I should be terrified, but I'm not. All my terror and fear is focused on Paul, where he is, and whether the search team can find him and the other children. I sit there, on the shabby old couch, sheltered in Andrew's arms. I am in a state of dreadful numbness, and his arm around me is the anchor that keeps me from drifting out into an ocean of terror.

The room is silent, except for the faint rustling of clothing as someone moves to get more comfortable. There is a distant mechanical hum in another part of the house as something kicks on – probably a refrigerator or the air conditioning. There is not even a ticking clock to disturb the stillness.

Then there is a bustle at the front door. As one, we all stand up, looking expectantly toward the entry hall.