Beyond Suspicion (13 page)

Twenty-four

“Oh, oh, here they come.” Rachel's voice deepened.

Shelby's pulse throbbed in her neck. She rose to peek. All she saw was the woman's back getting into the pickup. It only took a minute before it left the parking lot.

“Follow it!” Shelby shouted.

Valerie sat there without turning on the ignition. “No, I'm too scared to do that. You can call the police.”

Shelby stared at Valerie in anger and disbelief.

“She's right, Shelby,” said Rachel. “It's too dangerous.”

Shelby watched the road till she could no longer see the truck ahead. Her anger faded, replaced by doubt and logic. “Okay. You're right. I need to think. Something's wrong; I'm missing something. No way would Myra, or her brother, have anything to do with kidnapping Josh. It's crazy. But no police. Not yet, anyway. Right now I can't just accuse Myra like that. Not when I don't believe it myself. I know what it feels like to be falsely accused on circumstantial evidence.”

They talked it over. Tried to make sense of the evidence of the wig and the truck. Rachel thought it was coincidence that Myra's brother drove a red truck. Valerie, still freaked out, said she didn't believe in coincidence.

“Think about it,” Valerie said. “The woman at the wig shop got in the red pickup. The driver of this pickup is her brother and might be the man you saw. To me that's more than a coincidence. You better call the police.”

Rachel handed the notebook with the pickup's license number to Shelby. “Here, you do what you think is right. But if you don't mind, I don't want to be involved anymore. Let's go home.”

Valerie started the ignition. “I second that.”

They drove home in silence, Shelby thinking she really needed more information before telling anyone. “I don't want her to go through what I did,” Shelby said, as Valerie dropped her off.

Pop, Don, and Barbara were all on the couch when she came in; Roger had his feet up in the recliner seeming more relaxed than before. “Did you have good time?”

“Yes, it was fun. Where's Mom?”

“She's in her room with Ellen,” Barbara said.

Ellen? Oh, Grammy. Shelby went to her door and tapped on it before opening it a little. Grammy was sitting on the bed propped up on pillows. Her mother's head was in Grammy's lap. Grammy was stroking her hair. She put a finger to her lips, but her mother opened her eyes and spoke.

“Hi, honey.” She started to get up. Grammy put her hand on her head and patted it. Her mother settled back. “There's chicken in the fridge if you're hungry.”

“Okay, I just wanted to let you know I was home.” Shelby closed the door and went to her room. Tears came as she curled up in bed and shoved her face in the pillow to muffle the sounds. Seeing her mother like that was heart-wrenching.

***

When Shelby came out of her room, she found Roger and Pop munching on chicken in front of the TV. Shelby gave Roger a nod toward the kitchen. She had thought long and hard about it, but if she didn't tell him what she had found out, maybe Josh would never be found.

Roger said, “Be right back.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, Shelby spoke in a soft whisper. “I don't think Mom needs to hear this, but you do.” He sank into a chair as she told the story of the red pickup, the baseball cap, and the wig store. “I could be all wrong, Roger, but we need to show the wig clerk a picture of Myra.”

Roger's expression was deeply troubled. This new information on top of everything else, plus his state of exhaustion, made it impossible to tell if he was upset, angry, or what.

“Are you mad at me?” asked Shelby.

Roger reached out and touched her shoulder. “No. My first instinct was to yell at you and say Myra wouldn't do that.”

“Mine too,” said Shelby. “But I'd die if I kept quiet and…you know.”

Roger rubbed his eyes. “Do you know if the police have talked to the clerk?”

“Not before we did,” Shelby said. “Roger, do you know where Myra lives? It's not in the phone book, I checked. Neither is Harlan.”

“I'm sure I have the address somewhere at the office,” Roger said. “My dad and I'll go up there and find it.”

“Can I go?”

Roger shook his head. “Stay here so your mom won't worry. Shelby, you did good.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“The police could find out in record time,” Shelby said.

“I know, but like you said, we don't want to get them involved if she's innocent.”

“You're going to drive over to her house, aren't you?”

“Probably.”

Roger told his parents and Pop what Shelby had told him. Pop insisted on going with them. “It might be a rescue, you never know.”

“You three call in,” said Barbara. “If I don't get a call every half hour, I'm phoning the police.” She put her arm around Shelby's waist.

“Just don't tell Melissa,” Roger said. “It's probably nothing and she'll worry needlessly.”

Shelby tried one more time. “Please let me go with you.”

Roger looked at her as if seeing something for the first time. “You're a special girl, Shelby. Please understand that I couldn't stand it if something happened to you, too.”

Shelby met his eyes. There was nothing to say. She just nodded.

Later, Grammy came out of her mother's room and joined them in front of the TV. “Melissa's sleeping. Where are the boys?”

Barbara explained.

“Wouldn't it be wonderful if your mother woke up with Josh in her arms?” Grammy dabbed at her eyes. “It's so hard to see her going through this and trying to be strong when all I want to do is fall apart.”

“It's hard to see Roger in so much pain,” Barbara said. “Josh is his only child and to have something like this happen…” Her eyes opened wide. “Shelby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean you aren't…”

“Barbara, I know what you mean,” Shelby hurried to ease her concern. “Josh is Roger's son. The day he was born was the greatest day in his life. Joshie is Mom's first boy. She always wanted a brother for me. Roger made her dream come true.”

“I'm so happy you're my new granddaughter.” Barbara dissolved into tears.

Grammy took her hands and they cried softly with their heads together. Shelby decided to leave them alone to comfort each other. They had a lot to share.

“I'm going to lie down for a while.” She went to her room and stretched out on her pillows with her hands behind her head to wait for news.

Valerie called to find out what Shelby had decided to do, so she filled her in. “Waiting is torture. I wish they had let me go with them.”

“When will you hear anything?”

“Whenever they think it's important,” Shelby said. “Which means they won't call at all. But Barbara threatened to call the police if they weren't in touch regularly.”

“How long has it been?”

“An hour at least, I didn't check the time until I came in here.”

“I better go,” Valerie said. “I'll let Rachel know what's happening. Call me if something happens.”

Shelby agreed and hung up. Her cell rang almost immediately. It was Matt.

“I can't talk,” she said. “Roger is out following a lead.”

“I know” Matt said.

“How do you know?”

“My dad got a call, shouted something at my mom, then knocked on my door and said that Grimes was heading to your house. Your stepfather's been shot.”

“No!” Shelby dropped her cell phone and ran to her mother's room.

“Wake up, Mom! Roger's been shot!”

Twenty-five

Detective Grimes arrived with uniformed officers. Her mother, Grammy, and Barbara stood at the front door, hanging onto each other, ready to hear the worst. When they heard that Roger was alive but in surgery, Grammy burst into tears and clung to Shelby's mother who stared helplessly as Barbara sank to her knees.

A uniformed officer gently helped her to her feet.

“I'll have one of the officers drive you all to the hospital,” Detective Grimes said. “I'll drive Shelby.”

They gathered their things, locked up the house and Grammy and Barbara climbed into the backseat of a squad car. Shelby waved at them as they drove away. Then she slid into the passenger seat of Detective Grimes' car and buckled up.

Grimes questioned her. “Now tell me what they were doing. Your grandfather said you could explain.”

“They were going to check out Myra's house.”

She gave him a complete rundown, including the baseball cap. When she was done, she asked: “Now, tell me what happened to Roger.”

“Why didn't they call us?”

“Roger was afraid Myra would get the treatment I got and turn out to be perfectly innocent.”

“Oh. I see.” He turned on the ignition, looking over his left shoulder.

He looked so upset with himself that Shelby was honestly sorry for him. “So what happened?”

“Myra's car was packed when they got to her house,” he said, backing out of the drive and rolling down the street. “They confronted her and things fell apart fast. She pulled out a Glock and shot your stepfather. The two older men took cover behind their vehicle. She hopped in her car and took off.”

“Where'd she go?”

“No one knows. Your grandfathers had to get help.”

“Josh wasn't with her?”

“No. Forensics called. No sign of a baby living in the house, but there was a sack on the counter containing formula, diapers, and other baby stuff. It indicates that she either moved to a new place or she was leaving town. She may have been preparing to go get him when Roger and his posse showed up.”

“Harlan Tuttle is the name the man with her is going by. Is there any way you can find out where he lives? Oh, and Rachel wrote down the license number of the pickup. I have it here.” She dug in her purse, ripped out the notebook page, and handed it to him.

“Good. Thanks.” He gave her a look then got on the radio.

Shelby clasped her hands together. Roger couldn't die, not now, not when she was just starting to think of him as a dad.

The hospital's waiting room was depressing. No one spoke to her or even noticed she was there. Each of them was lost in private thoughts.

A nurse came out. “Mr. Butler is out of surgery, the doctor will be down to talk to you soon. If you'll come with me.” She led them through a door to a small room with a table and six chairs. They waited about ten minutes, still not talking.

The doctor, wearing green scrubs, entered through another door. “Roger came through surgery with no complications. The bullet did some damage to his intestine, but we've managed to repair it. Infection is what we're going to guard against, but he should pull through just fine. He won't need to be in the ICU. You can come to his room as soon as he is out of recovery, but only two at a time. There's a waiting room on his floor. The nurse will give you his room number.” He smiled, patted her mother's hand, and left.

Barbara and Don wanted to spend the night at the hospital. Pop and Grammy took Shelby home.

“We'll be back tomorrow and one of us will bring your car here, Melissa.”

“I'd like to see him,” Shelby said, in the hall before they left.

Pop hugged her. “We want to see him, too, Shelby. But his father, mother, and wife get priority. It's something kind we can do for them.”

***

The following morning, Shelby stood over Roger's bed watching him sleep. It should have turned her stomach to see all the tubes coming out of him, the machine next to the bed, beeping occasionally, and the urine bag tied to the bed rail, but compassion and concern overcame that reaction. It was nice that they let her go in alone to see him. She touched his hand. “I'm sorry for everything. Please get well. We need you.”

He lay there, unmoving. A nurse came in to check his vitals. Shelby left the room, hugged his parents and her mother in the waiting room, and took a chair by a window while Pop and Grammy took their turn to visit Roger. Shelby chewed on her knuckles. If Myra had shot Roger, what would she do to Josh?

When they came out, Pop and Grammy hugged everyone and offered to stay while her mother drove home to shower and change.

“No, I'm staying.”

“Then I'll bring you a change of clothes,” Grammy told her. “Barbara, do you want me to bring you anything?”

She shook her head. “Don and I will run home this afternoon for a quick shower and change. Melissa, you really should do that right now.”

Shelby watched her mother shake her head as she went back to Roger's room. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

A shiver ran down Shelby's spine. Her mother's love for Roger was so deep.

On the ride home, anger boiled up as Shelby thought about Myra and what she had done to her family—what Myra had done to her. She was the last one standing. What kind of monster stole another woman's child? Fawned and giggled to her boss while plotting to ruin his life? She had put on a huge act and each one of them believed her.

Then it came to her, the obvious. Myra must have been in love with Roger and wanted his child. Not real love, not like her mother, but a crazy obsession she called love. Josh must have been relatively safe as long as nobody knew. But now? Josh was in grave danger. Shelby knew she could not sit in that house and wait for the police to do something. It was time to act.

When they arrived at the house, Pop told Grammy he needed to nap. “Hardly got any sleep last night for worrying.”

“Why don't you use Mom and Roger's room? It's more private and the drapes are the kind that darken the room.”

“Good idea,” Grammy said. “I need some sleep, too.”

“I may go out for a while with Valerie and Rachel, if that's okay. I won't be gone long.”

“Yes, dear, just keep your cell phone handy.” Grammy kissed her cheek. “We'll call if we hear anything.”

Shelby had no intention of calling her friends. The fear in Valerie's eyes when Shelby had told her to follow the red pickup had been enough. She sat in front of the TV, feeling positive the next news report would cover the shooting. It not only covered it, the reporter gave the address where the shooting took place. Shelby wrote it down and jumped to her feet. She decided not to change out of capris to jeans since the weatherman predicted hot temperatures and she was ready to get going. But a safety concern made her pause.

She stood in the living room for a minute, thinking it through, and then punched in Matt's number. When it went to voicemail she left a quick message. “I'm taking the bus and going out to talk to Myra's neighbors. My cell will be on, call me if you get this.”

She had to change buses to get to Myra's side of town, but the transfer was on time so she didn't have to wait. At the intersection where the bus let her off, an elderly woman in a flowered housecoat and flip-flops was hand-watering her flowerbed. “Excuse me, ma'am,” Shelby said. “Could you tell me where Pine Creek Road is?”

“It's the cross street that way.” She pointed down her street in the other direction. “It's the first one.”

“Thank you.” Shelby walked in front of her house. “I love your flowers.”

“Thank you, dear, I love growing them.” The woman hummed as she went back to watering.

Shelby marveled at the tall trees and neat brick houses. This neighborhood had been built, she guessed, back in the nineteen-twenties. Each one had a small porch and on many she saw elderly residents in comfortable chairs. Most of them waved as she walked past. Shelby waved back, greeting the ones who said good morning. At the corner, she pulled out her notepaper and checked the address. It had to be on this side to the right. She crossed the street and slowed her steps. She found it about six houses up. Across the street an elderly black man sat in a green plastic chair on his porch. Myra's next-door neighbor's car was in the drive and the front door was open. She would talk to them first.

A woman about her mother's age, answered Shelby's knock on the screen door. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Can I ask you about your neighbor, Myra Tuttle?”

The woman rolled her eyes, putting her left hand on the door. “I'm tired of answering questions about what happened. I wasn't home to see the shooting, no I've never seen a baby over there, and I don't know anything else.” She slammed the door and turned the deadbolt.

Shelby jogged across the street to the man on the porch. “Hi.” She stopped at the bottom step and pointed at Myra's house. “Can I ask you about the woman who lives over there?”

“Sure, come on up and join me.” He stood as she climbed up the steps and pointed to a second chair. Once she was seated, he sat too. “What do you want to know?”

Shelby warmed to him right away. “I have a story to tell. Do you have the time?”

He grinned. “Nothing but time. I'm retired. Name's Jess.”

“Hi, Jess, I'm Shelby. Have you heard about the kidnapping on the news?”

“Terrible thing.”

“That was my little brother and he's still missing. Myra, over there, is my stepdad's assistant. She shot him last night when he went to talk to her. She was skipping town and we have to find her. Josh is probably with her.”

“I answered questions last night with the police. Told them I didn't know anything 'cept I've been doing some thinking about it. I've seen a man over there once or twice.”

“What did he drive?”

“Not that white van they talked about. It was usually her green car and she was doing the driving. Never saw him up close.”

Shelby couldn't hide her disappointment.

“Jess,” she said. “I'm going to go over there, see if I can get in, and do some snooping. Don't call the cops, okay?”

“I won't, but they didn't lock the front door, so just walk right in. I'll keep a lookout in case she comes back.”

Shelby hadn't thought of Myra coming back. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. “Thanks.”

Shelby turned and gave a little wave to Jess before going inside. The furniture was still there, but most of the personal things like towels, sheets, and dishes were gone. She checked all the rooms. The police must have taken the shopping bag on the counter. Shelby searched but found no clues. Myra was definitely an organized person. No trash on the floors. Trash. Shelby opened the door leading to the garage and an unpleasant smell made her pinch her nose. The garbage had been dumped on the floor. The police had ripped open three black bags and sifted through them. Coffee grounds, soaked papers, and foul meat packages were scattered around. Shelby backed inside and closed the door. Okay, she'd search the house more carefully. This time she lifted chair cushions and pulled open drawers.

As she slid out the swivel chair at the open drop-front secretarial desk, she heard the sound of paper tearing. She looked down. A business sized envelope was pinned under the front wheel of the chair.

She pulled it out. On the corner was the logo of a trailer park. Was that where Josh had been taken? Shelby studied the envelope on the way to the front door.

Jess was still on his porch. She ran over to him. “Can I use your phone book?”

“I'll get it.” He got up slowly. “Find something?”

“Yeah, the name and address of the Garden Ridge Trailer Park.”

He brought the phone book and she dialed the number to the park on her cell. “Could you give me directions to your trailer park from Broadview?”

The woman gave such easy directions Shelby didn't have to write them down. She thanked the woman then disconnected. “Thanks, Jess, I better go catch the bus.”

“You aren't going out there, are you?”

“I have to. Don't worry. I'll just ask questions and call the police if I hear about anything.”

Jess pressed his lips together in doubt. “Don't like it; you ought to go with someone.”

Shelby hurried down the steps. “I'll be okay. Thanks for your help, Jess.” Shelby knew Jess was right, but she was past the point of turning back. The police had missed the evidence of the trailer park. What else had they missed? By the time she got them to listen to her would it be too late?

***

The bus rolled up to the stop and opened its doors. She got on and took it to Broadview with no transfers then got off and waited for the bus heading to the outskirts of town.