Other than Paige, the only calls I get are from my lawyer. Today, he calls bearing what we hope is good news; Beverly McFarland is awake and talking. Franklin Koll, the man responsible for killing Jake and helping to kidnap Caden, lawyered up instantly and hasn’t said one word. I know the feds think I planned this with them, and so much of my hope relies on Beverly’s reply when they ask her about me.
I’ve never met that bitch in my life. Her answer should be the same, but I’ve learned not to count on anything. When I get off the phone with the lawyer, I stare at it for a long moment before succumbing, and texting Dani.
Me: I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear from me. Please just tell me how Caden is doing.
It’s stupid. I know it is. My lawyer has warned me that any contact with them can be used against me, but I have to know he’s okay.
Long minutes pass and turn into an hour, then two hours. I’m sure she won’t reply at all when my phone buzzes.
Dani: He’s fine. He’s safe.
I want to reply. To ask about her and Axton, but I don’t press my luck. Patience has never been one of my strengths, but for now, I have to wait. Maybe once they find out I had nothing to do with his abduction, I’ll be able to apologize and explain. Maybe I’ll have a chance to see him again.
It’s all I have to hold onto.
My head can’t get any lower as I’m escorted into the police precinct again, this time by my lawyer, and not against my will. The lawyer may have advised me against doing this, but I want to give them whatever they need to clear my name.
Today, they want a handwriting sample.
My heart races when I’m led to the same little room where I was questioned before. The gray walls seemed to be soaked in my fear from the last time I was here, radiating it back at me. My lawyer sits to my right, and an FBI agent and another man sit across from me.
No questions are asked this time. The lawyer has made it clear I’m only here to cooperate by giving a sample of my handwriting, although I’m not sure how that will help. Was there a ransom note found that I didn’t hear about?
It isn’t until the agent starts to read the words he wants me to write, that it clicks into place.
“You stupid bitch. Do you think you’re better for him than me? Do you think he actually loves you? He’ll never love you like he does me. Stay the fuck away from him.”
Halfway through the second sentence, I pause, my head jerking up. “The threat letters that were sent to me? You think Beverly or Franklin sent them?”
The agent’s face stays hard and impassive. Instead of answering, he just repeats himself then waits for me to write it down. After I’ve done so, he pulls the paper away from me and sneers. “To answer your question, Ms. Wells, no. I’m confident this will show you wrote the letters to yourself and that will be plenty to show premeditation and have you included in the charge of murder for Jacob Hathlon.”
My lawyer holds up his hand when I start to argue and gets to his feet. “My client has cooperated and we’re leaving.”
He gives me a ride out of the area where I’m meeting a taxi to take me back to the B&B. “When the handwriting doesn’t match, will that be enough to clear me?”
“If it doesn’t match you, but matches either of the other suspects, that would be enough to create reasonable doubt with a jury. They won’t want to pursue charges when they know they can’t get a guilty verdict.”
Sighing, I stare out the window. “Won’t they just claim I had them write it? The way they say I had them do everything else?”
His lip tilts up as he gives me a sideways glance. “You haven’t been watching the news.”
“There’s only so many times I can watch myself be called a kidnapping psychopath.”
“Beverly was questioned while she was still in the hospital and she had to be kept there a few days. Being handcuffed to a bed didn’t prevent her from getting a phone and broadcasting a video live to social media.”
“A video of what?”
“A rant aimed at you. Axton and Dani as well, but mostly you. She made it very clear that she hated you and stated over and over that Caden belongs with her and not, and I quote, ‘that uppity cunt that ain’t never been no family to him or his mama. We never met her before and she ain’t got no right to come around after Deidre’s death to claim my grandson.’”
Rubbing my forehead, I try to work out what it all means.
My lawyer’s voice is reassuring. “Naomi, she admitted publicly she doesn’t know you and that she took him to get him back from you. It’s going to be hard to name you as a coconspirator with that, proof she or her accomplice wrote the threat letters, and no physical evidence against you. I don’t want to get your hopes up because anything can happen. But if things go our way, this could be over very soon.”
Chapter Three
Axton
A shrill cry from the next room sends guilt flooding through me. I don’t know if he’s afraid, hurt, or angry, but in the week since he was rescued, Caden has thrown tantrum after tantrum. I don’t know what emotions a one year old is capable of, or how the trauma of those horrific two days may have affected him.
The doctors say to be patient and to keep things as routine as normal. To help him feel safe. We’ve isolated ourselves here and though word hasn’t gotten out where we’re staying, I have security patrolling the grounds twenty-four seven. The only people allowed near are the band and Milo.
Tears stand in Dani’s eyes when I step into the kitchen and see her wipe off Caden’s face, then lift him out of the highchair. She’s splattered with whatever she was trying to feed him. “He still won’t eat much,” she says with a sniff.
Screaming to bring down the house, he climbs to his feet and toddles over to me, grabbing onto my leg. When I lift him into my arms, he struggles and wails louder. There’s no consoling him. He’s not screaming to get what he wants. I don’t think he knows what he wants any more than we know how to give it to him.
I do the only thing I know to do that sometimes helps. “Okay, Hatch. Let’s go have a bath.”
The house we’re temporarily residing in doesn’t have a pool—it’s past the time of year we could swim anyway—but it does have a large hot tub in the rec room. I’ve set the temperature low, just warm enough to be comfortable and safe for him. While he kicks and slaps at me, I take off his clothes and diaper, then change into a pair of shorts.
I put one of the silly cartoons he likes on the large TV that hangs on the wall across from the tub, then step into the tub with him. When the warm water envelopes him to his waist, his cries fade and he slaps his palms against the water.
I pull a few of his toys in from the edge and he reaches for the little cup. He picks it up, pours out the water, then dunks it again. It’s one of his favorite things to do, and he does it over and over.
My mind flashes back to a sunny day in the park with Naomi, watching him do the same with a cup of sand. Anger and a dull sadness wrap around me. Fucking bitch.
Once he’s calmed down, his eyes start to droop, and he rubs at them. I’ve learned pretty quickly not to use the word nap unless I want another scream fest. Instead, I hold him close, and his head lies against my chest. “You need to sleep. Things are going to be better, I promise. You’re safe. No one will ever take you from us again.”