Beyond Suspicion (11 page)

Nineteen

As they turned the corner onto their street, they were relieved to see nothing but empty pavement. “Thank heaven, they're gone,” Roger said, without joy in his voice, as he swung into the driveway.

They all thought the same thing. The media had moved on to more immediate news. Shelby remembered Mr. Quick saying they were straddling a fine line between wanting privacy and wanting media attention to keep Josh's story in front of the public eye so they could help find him. Right now she craved privacy. No detectives, no friends, and no Matt.

Had she trusted him? Off and on, she had, despite his occasional rudeness and his love of telling her what to do—he was older, after all. And the truth was she had liked him, had thought that after this was all over, she might get to know him. But all the lies! No one had ever lied to her like that. It made her sick.

As they drove away from the police station, her mother started to mention Matt but Roger had shushed her and gestured to the backseat. Shelby's gratitude for his consideration of her feelings was huge. The drive home helped her calm her emotions and think more clearly. She'd been duped and that was it. Jace thought she was weird and Matt had tried to manipulate her to be the big hero and solve a kidnapping.

Grammy had lunch ready when they got home. They all sat at the table and Shelby tried but couldn't get Matt and what he'd done out of her thoughts. It didn't help when her mother and Roger told the others what happened.

“Liking someone and trusting that person is nothing to be ashamed of,” Pop said, patting her hand. “The shame is on his part.”

Shelby put her fork down. “I thought I had a friend after everyone deserted me. It's hard to think about him and know it was all a lie.”

“He said he wanted to explain,” Grammy said. “Maybe you should let him.”

“Shelby is not going to do that,” her mother said. “I won't have it.”

“Melissa—” Roger began.

“No,” her mother interrupted, “Matt can't ever be trusted to tell the truth about anything. We all fell for his lies.”

“I know, Mel,” Roger agreed. “But the fact is, Shelby was ripe for the picking because of you and me.”

Shelby's mother jolted upright. “Don't you dare try to blame this on me!”

“I'm blaming it on both of us.” Roger's voice remained calm and even. “Shelby couldn't come to us and say she wanted to check out vans or go looking for Josh or even share her feelings. She couldn't even tell us about what they were saying on the Internet. Mr. Quick had to tell us. Because we wouldn't listen.”

Her mother's face crumpled and tears flowed. “I did say I couldn't worry about her problems, but I was talking about Valerie's mother.” She straightened up again. “I'm so sorry, Shelby. But, no matter what we did or didn't do, it does not, in any way, shape, or form excuse what Matt and his father did.”

Roger looked at Shelby. “I'm as sorry as I can be for our neglect, Shelby. The only excuse we have is the emotional state we were in. But we're the adults here and our parental responsibility was also to you.” He reached out and covered his wife's hand. “He fooled me, too. I thought Matt was a nice, polite, sympathetic, and clever kid.”

“He probably is every one of those things,” Pop said. “He was doing something for his father. Shelby, he was kind to you, wasn't he?”

Her mother made a noise. Pop chastised her with a harsh glance. She hushed. Shelby saw her turn into a daughter and it was kind of jarring.

“Shelby?”

“Yes, he was kind to me, and funny. And you know how he helped me hunt for the van.” Shelby sagged in her chair. “But he was also bugging me to give him more information. As if I had anything to hide. I guess he just wanted me to confess to murder so he could be a hero or something. He and his dad were laughing at me behind my back. It's embarrassing how I fell for it.”

No one spoke for a long, uncomfortable minute.

“I'm glad you told us about hunting for the van,” Roger said. “Is there anything else we should know?”

Shelby felt the sudden tension around the table. “No,” she lied. No way would they understand about her going to Gina Manelli's home.

The phone rang. Pop got up to answer it. A long minute later he said, “Where?”

Everyone rushed to the living room. He listened.

“Is it Josh?” her mother asked, suddenly pale.

Pop shook his head and held up his index finger. He listened a few seconds more. “Yes, I'll tell them.” He hung up the receiver. “That was your attorney. A partially charred white van has been discovered in a field just out of town. A baby blanket, similar to your description, was found and wasn't completely destroyed. They'll be bringing it here for you to identify. No sign of Josh.”

Roger caught her mother just before she slid to the floor. He lifted her and carried her to their bedroom, followed by an anxious Grammy. Shelby went to her room to lie down.

An hour later, Detective Grimes rang the bell. Grammy came to Shelby's room. “He said he needs to see you, too.”

Shelby stood behind her grandmother, who sat in the recliner. Detective Grimes fidgeted as he handed a plastic bag to her mother, sitting on the couch next to Roger. “Mrs. Butler, don't remove it from the evidence bag, but could this be your son's blanket?”

She teared up as she rubbed the fingers of one hand gently over the bag as she held it in the palm of the other. Evidence of strain and grief showed in the chipped and worn polish on her nails. “It's Josh's blanket.” She held it out to Roger. “See? That's the appliqué bear I sewed on that matched Brownie Bear.”

Roger, too choked up to speak, took the bag. He held it to his lips and then handed it back to Detective Grimes.

“Thank you.” Detective Grimes glanced at Shelby. “Call me if you have any questions.” He seemed like he wanted to say something to her but didn't.

Pop removed his glasses, wiped both eyes, and put them on again. “I'll show you out, Detective,” he said, starting to get up.

“No, let me.” Shelby walked to the detective. “We haven't checked the mailbox since Friday.”

Detective Grimes held the door for Shelby. His sedan was parked at the curb.

“You looked like you wanted to tell me something,” Shelby said when they were safely on the front walk.

The detective raised his eyebrows. “You picked up on that?”

“What happened?”

Detective Grimes strode to his car. “On the ground close to the van we found a blond wig. I thought the blanket would be almost too much for all of you so I didn't want to bother you with this, too.” He beeped the car unlocked and took out another evidence bag. “Does it look familiar?”

“That's the color of the woman's hair,” Shelby said, not touching it. “So she was wearing a wig.”

“Appears so,” he said. “We thought that was a possibility from your description and this confirms it.”

Shelby sighed. “This means she's probably changed disguises.”

“Yes.” He tossed both bags on the seat. “Shelby, I can't tell you how sorry I am for what we did to you.”

“You thought I did it. I probably would have thought the same thing. A lot of people, including my best friends, did.”

He offered his hand. “Could we start over?”

Shelby took it, but instead of shaking it, she squeezed. “Please find Josh.”

“Count on it.”

She watched him drive away, feeling better about him. It still irked her the way they treated her, but she could take anything they threw at her—if only they could find Josh. At least they had some new clues. As she removed the mail she groaned. Why did she always have to think of things too late? DNA, could they get it from the woman's wig?

She handed the mail to Roger and he disappeared into his bedroom. Her grandparents were in the kitchen getting iced tea for everyone. Shelby joined them. “I guess they need to be alone,” she said, getting the pitcher out of the refrigerator.

“Yes, but not for too long. It's not good for either one of them,” Grammy said, preparing a tray with lemon and sugar. “Roger said his parents called and they will arrive about three. It will help to have them here.”

“Are they staying at the house? I can clean up my room for them.” Shelby poured the tea after Pop filled each glass with ice.

“No, honey,” Pop said. “They made reservations at the same place we're staying.”

“That's too expensive, Pop. Why don't all of you camp out here? We can get some folding cots from the rental place.”

“That's a good idea,” Grammy said, brightening. “We can be right here in case something happens.”

“Shelby, you were out there a long time,” Pop said. “Did the detective tell you anything?”

“He showed me a wig they found near the van.” Shelby lowered her voice. “It was the same hair color as the woman's. He didn't bring it in because he thought identifying the blanket was hard enough.”

“That was considerate,” Pop said. “I'm surprised.”

“He apologized to me personally about everything. I almost liked him.”

Pop threw his arm around her and gave her a quick squeeze.

“Wonder why the woman didn't burn the wig?” Grammy said. “It's almost like she dropped it on purpose.”

Shelby lifted her shoulders. “She's probably already bought another one in a different color.” She froze.

“What's wrong?” asked Pop.

“Nothing,” Shelby said. “I wonder…”

Just then Roger called from the living room, “My parents are here.”

Twenty

Roger's mother helped Shelby make dinner. “I know you already have two sets of grandparents. If you would like to call us Don and Barbara, we're fine with that.”

“Thanks, I would like that.”

Barbara's hair was a dyed reddish-blond that deepened the green tint of her brown eyes. Don had thick white hair and bushy eyebrows over the same blue eyes Roger had. They had hit it off with her grandparents right away. Don and Pop drove to the rental store to get four cots and came back best friends. “What with renting a car and the cost of motel rooms, this is a great idea,” Pop said. Don agreed.

It had even been fun setting up the cots. Don and Barbara would be in Josh's room. Mom insisted it would be okay. Grammy and Pop would camp out in the living room.

Shelby relaxed for the first time since they had arrived. She peeled potatoes over the sink disposal while Barbara sliced tomatoes.

Roger came in holding a letter. “Shelby, I know you need to get out of the house for a while. I need to do something at the office. Would you like to go with me?”

Shelby glanced at Barbara.

“Go ahead, I'll finish up here.”

In the car Shelby told Roger about the wig. “So, I scanned the yellow pages. There are only two wig places in town, maybe we can check them out.”

“Let's let the police do that.” Roger said. “Besides, she probably doesn't need a disguise any longer.”

At the office, Myra gushed and fawned over them as usual.

“I got this in the mail at home,” Roger told her. “We need to check the figures and get an answer back to him as quickly as possible.” They disappeared behind a closed door. Shelby sat in the waiting area, which doubled as Myra's workspace. A few coworkers popped in, but they didn't want to bother Roger. Shelby promised to pass their well wishes and prayers on to him.

Bored, Shelby got up to view the pictures on the wall. Some were the arty prints found in most offices, but a few photographs hung behind Myra's desk. She paused in front of the softball team picture. It was a mixed team—men and women. They had won last year.

Myra came out of Roger's office and hurried to her desk. “Hope this isn't too boring for you, Shelby.”

“No, I'm fine,” she answered. “Myra, do you play on the softball team?”

“Oh, gosh, no,” Myra chuckled. “Never learned, living in the city. But I cheer them on at the games.”

“How many people work in this company?”

Myra picked up a file from under a pile on her desk. “About two hundred, I guess,” she said, flipping through the file. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“We'll only be a few more minutes.” Myra went back to Roger's office. “There's a refrigerator in the lounge with bottled water if you'd like some.” She shut the door.

Shelby studied the baseball caps. Her heart thumped a little faster. The woman in the van could have been wearing one of these. A green cap with a bright yellow emblem. Shelby went back to her chair. In her mind she couldn't see the colors clearly, but it could be the same cap. One of the women in the office could be the kidnapper. Or one of the men on the team could have been working with his wife or girlfriend.

Roger came out of the office giving final orders to Myra, who jotted them in a notebook. “We can do our own shopping now, so will you call everyone on the list I gave you and thank them?”

“Of course, right away,” she said, sitting at her desk.

“Thank you, Miss Tuttle, I don't know what I'd do without you. Okay, Shelby, time to go.”

As they rolled out of the parking lot Shelby glanced at Roger. She wanted to tell him about the baseball cap, but when she saw that his grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white, she remained silent. Deep worry lines etched around his eyes and mouth. It would be better to leave him alone. They drove the rest of the way home in silence.

***

After the dinner dishes were washed, Shelby went to her room. The police hadn't called with any more information. Josh's kidnapping got only five minutes on the news. She tried to read but the noise from everyone getting ready for bed distracted her. Finally, pushing all worries aside, she became engrossed in her book. The house grew quiet.

She heard tapping at her window. She slid off the bed and pushed aside the curtain. It was Matt.