Beyond Suspicion (4 page)

Five

Shelby followed her mother and Roger as they went into the house. She closed the front door and saw her mother almost collapse. Roger grabbed her as her knees buckled. They clung to each other calling out Josh's name and praying.

“Please, God, let him be okay.” Tears streamed down Roger's face.

“Don't let them hurt my baby boy,” her mother sobbed.

“Turn the television on, Shel…” Roger said. “They might have news.”

Shelby picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV. The screen popped on just as her mother made a strangled sob against Roger's chest. Shelby wanted to hug her, and Roger, too, but hearing the anguish in their voices was too much to take. It was all her fault they had to go through this. How could they even stand looking at her, much less hugging her? If only she had stayed on the bench. A picture of Josh appeared on the screen.

“It's Josh!”

Shelby raised the volume. Roger snatched the remote and he and her mother hurried to the sofa. “Maybe they know something.”

But it was just a breaking news segment advertising their story as a coming attraction. A sharp pang of disappointment stabbed Shelby. “I'm sorry. I thought it was coming on now.”

“I wish they wouldn't do that.” Her mother sagged against Roger.

He put his arm around her, glancing at his watch. “We still have another hour before the ten o'clock news, but someone will call if they hear anything.”

“They've had Joshie for six hours. Why? Why would someone take him?” Her mother's voice rose to a desperate shrill.

Guilt became a heavy lump in the middle of Shelby's chest. When the fireworks had gone off she should have protected him; that's what big sisters were supposed to do. They weren't supposed to just leave him there all by himself to go see what all the noise was about. Shelby wiped her eyes with the hem of her blouse. They were in their own private world of sorrow. She had never felt so alone.

“I can't listen to this anymore.” Roger muted the TV. He took her mother's hand and they walked down the hall to Josh's room, then to their own.

Shelby drew her knees under her and wrapped her arms around her middle. The police thought she killed Josh. Maybe Roger did, too. What would he say to her when they had their first conversation? Even in the car on the way home they never said a word to her, hardly spoke at all, even to each other. She stood and went to the recliner.

About thirty minutes later their bedroom door opened. Roger moved down the hall like he had been wounded. He had changed into jeans and a green polo shirt. His eyes registered surprise at seeing her in the recliner. He hesitated for a second, like he wanted to say something, then he seemed to change his mind. As he passed by her he said, “Melissa's trying to sleep.”

Melissa. Not “your mother.” It made the feeling of isolation more acute.

He fell heavily into the cushions of the couch and picked up the remote. “It's almost ten.”

“Roger, I…”

“I don't want to talk right now.” His tone wasn't sharp, but it might as well have been. Shelby recoiled. He did blame her. And why not? If she had done her job, Josh would be home and asleep in his crib right now instead of…

The sudden ringing of the phone jolted them out of their own thoughts. Their eyes locked on it in terror.

“I'll get it.” Roger's hands shook as he stretched over to the end table and picked up the receiver. The tenseness in the set of his mouth relaxed. While he listened his head bobbed up and down. “Thank you, Miss Tuttle, we appreciate that.” His voice cracked. “Just come over, doesn't matter how late.” He hung up.

“Your secretary?” Shelby asked.

“Assistant,” Roger reminded her for the hundredth time. “She's bringing something for us to eat.”

The thought of food repulsed her. “I'm not hungry.”

Roger leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes. “You don't have to eat it, Shelby. She's just trying to be kind.” His tone was sharp, accusing, and filled with exasperation. “Why does everything have to be confrontational with you?”

“I wasn't complaining,” Shelby hurried to say. “I just don't feel I could swallow anything right now. I know she's being nice.”

“Sorry. I don't think I can eat anything either.” He checked his watch and turned on the television.

They replayed the news conference. Shelby saw the image of a scared girl, hair messed up, glasses slipping to the tip of her nose, being hugged by her mother. Roger had done the talking and when a reporter yelled out: “Shelby, didn't you see anything?” Shelby saw her own startled reaction as she shook her head. “N-no.”

The police spokesperson, Luis Aguilar, took over. Her mother and Roger stepped back with Shelby between them. Aguilar answered questions and gave the number to call in tips. When the video was over, the anchor appeared. To his upper left was the photo of Josh taken just a week ago. Shelby gripped the arms of the recliner as she saw his little face. Was he scared? Or hurt? Why didn't she watch him better? If only she could have a do-over, she'd never leave his side for any reason.

“This just in. Sources tell us that Shelby Palmer, his fifteen-year-old half-sister, may now be considered a person of interest. We take you live to Teresa Cummins who can tell us more.”

Shelby didn't realize she was holding her breath until her lungs released it. “Person of interest? What does that mean?”

“Shhh,” Roger increased the volume. “It's Valerie.”

Shelby gaped at the TV. Valerie sat next to her parents at the end of the couch in their living room. She had done her hair in long, gentle curls. Her makeup was perfect. The camera moved in for a close-up. Valerie fingered her beaded necklace as the reporter asked about the text messages and the conversation they had. “She always has to babysit him. Tonight, at the very last minute, she was told she had to miss the party to babysit him again. We had planned it for months. ”

“That made her mad?” asked Teresa Cummins, leaning forward.

“Well, wouldn't you be?” Valerie said as if the reporter didn't have a clue. “This was going to be a great party and Shelby wanted to be here. She helped me plan it.”

Shelby felt embarrassed in front of Roger to hear it out loud like that. Those were her private feelings. And now they were exposed to the whole world. It wasn't right.

“Do you think Shelby is capable of hurting her little brother?”

“Of course not!” Valerie's eyes flashed at the reporter. “She wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Valerie's mother spoke up and the camera pulled back to show the whole family. “Shelby is a sweet, gentle, and very kind person.”

Col. Cosgrove agreed in his no-nonsense military manner. “She's a nice, responsible young lady. Like a daughter to us. If Shelby says her brother was kidnapped, then that's exactly what happened.”

It seemed unreal as Shelby listened to them talk about her. No, they didn't think she had anything to do with the disappearance of the baby. It had to be a stranger abduction. Yes, she did have to babysit a lot and missed many functions, but she loved her little brother and doted on him. “You know how emotional teenagers can get,” Valerie's mother said. No, they hadn't cancelled the party. “What good would that do?”

“Then is it possible, Mrs. Cosgrove, that Shelby was so emotional she took out her anger on her baby brother?” Teresa Cummins shoved the mike toward her.

“I certainly don't think that Shelby could get so angry she could do something to Josh.” The lack of conviction in her tone and the doubt in her eyes were visible to the cameraman who zoomed in for all to see.

“But it is possible?” the reported pushed.

Even though Valerie gave a loud, “No, it is not possible,” the camera stayed on Valerie's mother.

Mrs. Cosgrove fidgeted, adjusting her position. “Of course not.”

The camera zoomed on the reporter's face just as she raised her eyebrows, studying Mrs. Cosgrove who squirmed under her gaze. “Thank you for allowing us in your home.” Teresa Cummins faced the camera. “Now back to the studio.”

When the anchor appeared on the screen, Roger abruptly left the room.

The suffocating silence combined with what she had just heard crushed Shelby. She walked slowly to Josh's room and leaned on the rail of his empty crib. The bulldog image of Detective Grimes swam behind her eyelids as she curled into a fetal position on the carpet and sobbed. She forced the image away and pictured Josh the last time she saw him.

Six

“Shelby?” Roger crouched, touching her shoulder. “Why don't you go to bed?”

She saw the compassion in his face for her as she slid her glasses back on. This was the right time for her to say something to convince him she didn't do what they said she did. “I'm not tired. It's just…” She sat up. “Roger, I didn't hurt Joshie. I couldn't. Please believe me.”

Roger helped her to her feet and kept her hands firmly in his. His face bent close to hers making her meet his eyes. “You don't have to tell me that. Maybe you and I have some problems, but I know in my heart you would never…” He swallowed. “…ever, hurt your little brother. You just don't have it in you.” He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, then dropped them.

Shelby wanted to let him know what that meant to her, but her throat had tightened and before she could speak the doorbell rang.

Her mother came into the room twisting and wringing her hands. Dark circles under her eyes made them seem sunken. All of her makeup had been removed and her hair hung limp. Shelby stepped back to let her shuffle past them to Josh's crib. She and Roger exchanged worried glances.

Roger squeezed Shelby's elbow. “I'll see who's at the door, it's probably Miss Tuttle.”

It scared Shelby to see the way her mother moved, trancelike, pulling off the sheets. “I want it all ready when he comes home. Won't that be nice?”

Maybe Mom needed to see her doctor. “You okay, Mom? Can I help?”

Her mother shook her head. “If Miss Tuttle's here with the food, why don't you go see if you can help?”

Shelby eased the bedroom door closed. As she walked down the hall toward the living room, Shelby caught the sound of her mother sobbing again. She'd ask Roger about calling Dr. Wiggins.

Myra's short brown hair was no longer combed flat like a cap. Her bangs were clumped by sweat on her forehead. She was rumpled from her wrinkled gray suit to her scuffed and dusty sensible black pumps. Normally she was prim, neat, and very proper in her appearance. Myra stood over the coffee table waiting while Roger flipped through the papers she had brought.

“Hi, Miss Tuttle.”

“Oh, Shelby.” She rushed over to grasp Shelby's hands. “I'm so sorry this happened to you. Josh is going to be just fine. They'll find him right away. I can't believe what they are saying on the news. It's unbelievably ridiculous.”

“Thanks, Miss Tuttle,” Shelby said. “Can I get you some iced tea?”

“See, you are always concerned about others. How they could think such nonsense about you, I'll never know. It's just not right.” Myra released her hands. “But, no, thank you, dear, I'm just fine. In fact I brought plenty of fried chicken, coleslaw, potato salad, and corn on the cob for all of you.”

“Sounds delicious,” Shelby said, unable to show any enthusiasm.

Miss Tuttle pursed her lips like she was talking to a little child. “I know you probably aren't hungry, but you have to keep your strength up. A full stomach will help all of you to get some sleep tonight. Make sure your mother eats something. How is she doing?”

“She's hanging in there. But I'm worried about her.”

Roger was concentrating on going through the papers and didn't seem to hear her.

“Another thing. I was telling Mr. Butler that all of you need to stay away from the windows. The vultures have landed.” Myra indicated the yard with a wave of her arm.

Shelby saw that the drapes had been drawn. Usually they just closed the mini-blinds. “What are you talking about?”

Myra Tuttle's mouth formed into a grim line. “Reporters. I heard someone say media from around the country would be arriving in a few hours. They're out there filling up the street. It's disgraceful. I had to leave my car a block away and hike here. Then they descended on me as I turned into the driveway. My picture will probably be all over the papers tomorrow.” Unconsciously, she patted her hair into place as she gave a sideways glance at Roger.

No wonder her shoes were dusty and her clothes all rumpled.

Miss Tuttle moved back to her place in front of Roger. His hands trembled as he stacked the papers. Shelby was glad Miss Tuttle was there. She may not have been the youngest and flashiest of assistants, but Shelby had heard Roger say more than once that Miss Tuttle was a genius and the best assistant in the whole advertising firm.

“Miss Tuttle,” Roger said, “thanks so much for dodging them to help us out. These should take care of a few days' work. I always tell people you're a treasure.” He handed her the papers.

Miss Tuttle beamed. “Mr. Butler, if there's anything I can do, you just call. And I don't mean just about work.” She moved closer to him. “Another thing. You might want to disconnect the doorbell. They're going to start hounding you.”

Just how bad was this going to get? Shelby went to the window, held the drapes back and opened the mini-blinds. It was almost like daylight out there. The lights they had set up illuminated all of them. Satellite dishes on top of vans, people scurrying around, wires, tripods, still cameras and video cameras filled the area in front of their house. Even policemen were standing out there directing traffic. A local reporter spotted her at the window and nudged a cameraman who pointed his lens at the window. Shelby ducked back, letting the drapes fall. She stuck her hand behind the drapes and twisted the rod until the mini-blinds were closed. A wave of panic rose in her.

Shelby called her mom and together they darkened every window in the house. Where the curtains were sheer they thumbtacked blankets. “These new cameras and photo lenses can get pictures from the tiniest holes,” Myra warned. “No one should answer the door or peep out. You don't want any candid photos or videos appearing on the news.”

Because of the movements at the windows, some reporters came to the front steps. Knocks and doorbell-ringing began in earnest. Myra went out and said that the family had no comment and would not be giving interviews. She reminded them that they were on private property and told them to stay on the sidewalk.

When she came back inside, Roger told her, “I think from now on you should use the phone and not try to come by here.”

“Oh, I don't mind. I can help out here at the house and let you know what's being said.”

“We can't let you do that,” her mother said, her arms crossed in front of her as she gripped her upper arms. “It would be too difficult.”

Myra assented with a pinched expression. “You're right, of course, but remember I am more than willing to help in any way I can.” She picked up her purse.

“Wait. Melissa,” Roger said, “I forgot about groceries. We can't go shopping.”

“I can shop for you.” Myra clasped her hands together. “Why don't you make out a list?”

“Myra, that's very sweet of you,” Shelby's mother said. “But you already have so much to do at work.”

“I'll call some friends,” Roger said. “They won't want to get involved in the mess outside, but if they can take them to Myra at the office, I think they would do that. Would you mind fighting that turmoil out there to deliver them?”

“I wouldn't mind at all.” Myra grinned as she stood a little taller. “You two just concentrate on getting your baby back and let me worry about the day-to-day things.”

Shelby thought that if nothing else, Myra Tuttle was loyal. Myra waited patiently, sitting on the edge of the armchair, both hands gripping her purse in her lap, while Roger called the CEO and was granted a leave of absence. Yes, Miss Tuttle could handle his clients, with help from the other executives, Roger assured him.

At midnight, Miss Tuttle left by the front door with a bold stride. Shelby peeked out the corner of the window and watched her quickstep through the blinding spotlights down the drive. She refused to acknowledge the reporters who tried to talk to her and kept her eyes straight ahead, chin up, and her mouth closed. One man blocked her path, but she skirted around him, and hurried on.

“Shelby, come away from the window,” her mother said. “We all need to eat a little something.”

Shelby let the curtain fall and joined her mother and Roger in the kitchen. Gloom settled over them the moment Miss Tuttle had gone. They sat around the table lost in their own private thoughts. Shelby's mother had a far-off expression as she moved the food around on her plate. Shelby made eye contact with Roger and motioned toward her mother.

“Melissa, try and eat something,” he said, softly.

“I can't.” Her mother put her fork down. “I'm going to watch TV.”

“Okay,” Roger said. “I'm pretty much finished myself.”

“I guess I am, too.” Shelby pushed her plate away.

Roger reached for their plates.

“I'll clean up,” Shelby offered. “Should I put on another pot of coffee?”

Her mother stood there, hesitating. “I don't know…Roger?”

“Go ahead,” Roger told her. “We won't be sleeping anyway.”

When everything was put away she joined them in the living room. It was hard to imagine that Josh's disappearance wasn't the most important thing on television. All of the scheduled programs had aired on time until a special late-night local-news event came on and covered the story, repeating the video of Valerie and her family. Seeing it again, Shelby's stomach tightened. When the anchors lifted their eyebrows as they discussed the white van, it was clear they didn't believe her either.

“Stay tuned for Lola Banes, immediately after this special edition,” the anchor announced. “Tonight she will be covering the very suspicious circumstances surrounding the disappearance of little Josh Butler.”

Shelby gasped. Lola Banes had a national talk show.

“I think you should go to your room, Shelby,” her mother said. “It would be better.”

“No, I want to hear what they have to say,” Shelby said. “It'll be okay. Lola Banes will make sure the truth gets out.”

“Let her stay,” Roger said. “She needs to know what's going on.”

The show began with a video of the police searching the woods around the park. Detective Grimes and Detective Rutherford appeared in little boxes on the screen. “She mentioned seeing a white van for a couple of days on her street and at the park, but absolutely no one confirms the sighting,” said Grimes.

Roger muted the TV. “Shelby, we need to talk about the van. How many times did you see it? What were they doing?”

“They were always in front of the Winston house,” Shelby said. “I thought they were going to buy it.”

“But if they just sat there, why did you think they were interested in the house?” asked her mother.

Shelby sank deeper into the chair. “Because I've seen other cars parked like that, waiting for the real estate lady to show up.”

“Describe the people in the van,” Roger said.

Her eyes rested on the ceiling as she pictured them. “The man always watched me from the corner all the way to the house.” She described his skinny body and his greasy hair. “Sometimes the woman did too.” After she described her hair and ball cap, she felt useless. There was nothing else she could say that would help find them.

“Why didn't you tell me?” her mother asked with the same exasperated tone she used when Shelby forgot something at the store or forgot to empty the dryer and the clothes would be too wrinkled to wear. “Roger could have asked for a patrol car to question them.”

Shelby stifled an urge to yell at them. She gripped the armrest to calm herself. “I didn't think it was important. I'm sorry.”

“They were out there when you would take Josh for a walk?” Roger asked.

“Yes, quite a few times.” She closed her eyes for a minute. “They were stalking us the whole time, weren't they? So they could snatch Josh.”

“We think they were,” Roger whispered. “Why Josh? Why?”

“It's my fault. If I had just told you, maybe…” Shelby couldn't say it out loud. Josh would be home safe if she had just told them.

“This is bad, Roger, since the police don't believe her they won't try to find them!” Her mother stood. “They have my baby!” She ran to her room and slammed the door followed by one long wailing cry of desperation and hopelessness.

Shelby reeled from the hysteria in her mother's screams, turning to see if Roger would go to her. Roger's face was buried in his hands. His fingers, twisted like claws, rubbed his forehead as if he could wipe away the thoughts swirling in his mind. Slowly his fingers relaxed. He leaned backward into the couch. The truth numbed her. Two adults she depended on to get through this were falling apart right before her eyes and there was no one else she could call.

“Should I call Dr. Wiggins? For Mom, I mean.”

Roger let his hands fall to his sides. “I already did. He's sending his son over with something.”

“You do believe me, don't you?”

Roger's gaunt eyes were kind as he nodded. “Yes, Shelby, I believe you. I've seen you with him; no one can fake that kind of love.”