Baby Gone Bye Read online

They rode in silence until they were several miles away from Hodges’ place. Gabe pulled to the side of the road and parked. He grabbed Birdie away from Abby and stepped out of the car. What just happened? Who was this girl who muttered a few words and saved their butts? What was she? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one who saved her? And, who the hell were Mother Earth and Father Sky? The term black magic flashed through his mind and he clutched the baby tighter. Was Birdie safe with Abby?

  Gabe opened the back door of the car and fastened Birdie into the car seat. She started to fuss and then remembered her thumb. She popped it into her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered and closed. Back behind the wheel, he looked at Abby. Huddled next to the door and weeping silent tears, she stared straight ahead.

  Well, crap, Gabe thought. I never know what to do when girls cry. But, hey, this time I didn’t cause it. At least I don’t think I did. What should I do? Say something? Start driving? What?

  Gabe chose the last option and pulled out onto the dirt road.

  “Gabe?” Abby’s voice was tremulous with tears.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t you want to ask me about what happened back there?”’

  He stared straight ahead. “That was some scary shit.”

  “Are you scared of me?”

  “Should I be? Are you a bruja?”

  “Bruja? I don’t know that word.”

  “Witch.”

  Abby took a shuddering breath, then whispered, “Yes.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus.” Hands at ten to two, Gabe gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He was afraid to look at her. The words, I’ll turn you into fat, slow mice, scrolled through his brain. He checked the rear view mirror to make sure Birdie was still . . . well, Birdie.

  Abby wiped her tears away, straightened her shoulders, and leaned toward Gabe. “Listen to me. It’s not what you think. Why don’t you pull over and I’ll explain everything.”

  “No,” Gabe said. “You talk. I’ll drive.”

  “Okay, fine. First off, there are two kinds of witches. They’ve been called many things. Good and bad. Black and white. My mother and I are white witches. In case you don’t know, we’re the good ones.”

  Through clenched teeth, Gabe said, “Your mother’s a witch, too?”

  “Yes, she’s a powerful white witch. I don’t have her abilities, but she says I’ll grow into them.”

  Gabe thought about the candles arranged in a pentagram, the oil of peppermint on his tongue, the spicy odor of potpourri. “So, last night, what your mother did? Was that witchcraft? Did she put some sort of spell on me?”

  Abby waved a dismissive hand. “No. She hypnotized you using what she learned from a doctor in Canada just like I told you.”

  Gabe risked a glance at Abby. Her tears were gone. She looked strong. Unafraid. Unwitchlike. But, looks could be deceiving. “Tell me more.”

  “We’d still be living in Canada if it weren’t for me,” Abby said. “When I turned twelve, puberty struck. You know what happens to girls then?”

  Gabe nodded. Papi had made certain his sons knew every single detail about puberty, including explicit descriptions of females and their plumbing. All of it had been explained in precise engineering terms.

  “Anyway,” Abby continued. “When I got my first period, I had like a power surge. We lived out in the country next to a guy who had cattle. His daughter, Hailey, was my friend. They had this cute little calf. He’d come over to the fence. I’d scratch his ears and give him treats. I named him Freckles because he had brown speckles on his face. Kinda like mine.”

  She paused and swallowed hard. “I knew they were raising Freckles for veal. You know veal is baby cow. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, the day the slaughter truck was scheduled to come for Freckles, I lost it.”

  “Lost it, how?”

  “I crawled under the fence and cast a protective circle around Freckles. At that stage, I couldn’t control my magic, and like I said before, I got this power surge. I really don’t remember much except that I wanted to save Freckles any way I could.”

  Gabe tried not to smile. “So what did you do? Give Freckles ninja powers?”

  “Nope.” Abby grinned at him.” I gave him the power of speech.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. When Hailey’s dad and the slaughter guy came to get Freckles, the calf said, ‘Please don’t kill me, mister. I’m just a baby.’ Hailey’s dad passed out cold, and the slaughter guy jumped in his truck and took off. Well, of course, they couldn’t kill him. They thought he was like Babe the pig, that people would come and pay money to see a talking cow.”

  Gabe was totally caught up in the story of Freckles the calf. “And did he? Make them a fortune?”

  “I don’t know because we had to move. My mother thought people would put two and two together and somehow figure out we were responsible. We couldn’t risk being exposed. That’s when we left Canada and came here. By the way, if you haven’t figured it out, this is a huge secret.”

  Gabe fell silent and thought about everything Abby had told him. Bruja. Black witch. White witch. After his aunt’s tales, the term good witch was a foreign concept. Could he trust Abby?

  Gabe cleared his throat, uncertain how to frame his question. “So, what do you guys do? Dance around in the moonlight or what?”

  “No, Gabe.” Abby shot him a look. Was it a witchy look? “We don’t dance around in the moonlight. Any more questions?”

  Gabe chose his words carefully. “Not right now. I’m still kinda blown away by the whole witch thing.”

  “Mom and I are keeping a low profile, witch-wise. Since the incident in Canada, we have to be careful, so we haven’t made contact with other witches in the area.”

  Gabe’s head snapped toward Abby. “What? There are other witches in Maple Grove?”

  “Well, sure. Did you think we were the only ones?”

  “Good God Almighty,” Gabe mumbled, rubbing his stubbly chin. “Like who?”

  The corner of Abby’s mouth quirked in a smile. “You’d be surprised.”

  After a few moments of silence, Gabe said, “I should have said this right off. Thanks for what you did back there. You saved our butts. No doubt about it.”

  Abby shook her head. “I’m in big trouble. I broke the rule.”

  “In trouble with who?”

  “My mom,” Abby said. “She wants to stay in Maple Grove. If people find out about us . . .”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “I sort of lost my head, ya know? You were holding a baby for God’s sake. What kind of person would point a shotgun at a baby?” Abby’s voice quivered with outrage.

  “Somebody who’s looking to make some money, that’s who.”

  “You mean they want to get their hands on Birdie so they can sell her?”

  “That’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”

  “Who to?”

  Gabe shrugged. “Don’t know. That’s why we need to find Lizzie.” He suppressed a shudder as the image of the bloody sleeping bag flashed through his mind. Was Lizzie even still alive?

  “Do you think they were trying to force Lizzie to tell them what she did with the baby?”

  “Yeah, that’s how I see it.”

  “What do we tell the sheriff?” Abby said.

  “We can’t mention the gun or he’ll want details, details we’d better keep to ourselves. Right?”

  Abby nodded.

  “So, we’ll let him know about the blood in the shed and the kicked-in door. Ask him to send somebody to check it out.”

  “And then?”

  “Then we pay a visit to the Sampsons.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  RECALLING TOM Mackey’s piercing
gaze and his own tongue-tied responses, Gabe was somewhat relieved to discover the deputy wasn’t available.

  “Out to lunch,” the crabby receptionist said. She slapped a yellow legal-sized pad and a stubby pencil on the counter. “Write it down. I’ll put it on his desk.”

  Birdie was sleeping soundly in her car seat. Gabe set her on the counter and, with Abby’s help, re-created the scene at the Hodges, making no mention of the shotgun. He underscored the last sentence. Be sure to check the shed. There’s blood everywhere.

  He signed his name and left his cell phone number. When he handed it to the receptionist, he said, “Would you please ask Deputy Mackey to call me and let me know what he finds out?”

  She glanced at the clock and shrugged. “It’s one o’clock. He gets off at four. He may not have time to go out there.”

  Abby’s face turned beet-red. She glared at the woman. “That’s three hours from now.”

  Gabe caught his breath. Was Abby about to do something witchy? Like turn this old biddy into a toad? He grabbed the car seat from the counter and nodded at the woman. “Okay, thanks.” Gripping Abby’s arm with his free hand, he towed her toward the door.

  Once outside, Gabe blew out his breath. “Geez, Abby, chill. You looked like you were about to blow.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, I get it. You think every time I express an emotion, I’m about to cast a spell.”

  Actually, that was exactly what he’d been thinking. Now how could he express it without making her angrier? He said, “Um, you said you couldn’t always control your power and—”

  “That was then. This is now,” Abby snapped.

  “So, you can control it now?”

  Abby jerked away from him and stomped toward the car. “I just saved your butt, didn’t I?”

  Good God Almighty, would he ever understand the female mind? And, if said female was also a witch . . .

  With an involuntary shiver, Gabe called after her, “Yeah, you did. Sorry.”

  An icy silence permeated the interior of the car as Gabe headed south on Highway 97, the route that led to the Yakama Indian Reservation and the home of Joe and Becca Sampson.

  Abby began muttering under her breath and throwing sharp-edged glances in Gabe’s direction.

  Gabe heaved a heavy sigh. “I get it. You’re pissed off. If you have something to say, just say it. Out loud. Okay?”

  “Fine. I’ll say it. If I hadn’t cast that protective circle, Birdie wouldn’t be in the back seat of your car. She’d be with those awful people.”

  Gabe nodded. “Agreed.”

  “And furthermore,” she snapped. “If you can’t accept what I am, screw you! Here’s an idea. Stop the car and I’ll get out. I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

  The sight of his formerly quiet little neighbor, red-faced, waving her arms and threatening to get out of the car, suddenly struck Gabe funny. He turned his face away and disguised his laughter into a phony coughing fit. It didn’t fool Abby for a minute.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  Gabe bit his lower lip until tears came into his eyes. “Uh-uh. No way. It’s just that I need a little time to adjust to your, um, witch-hood, ya know?”

  “Witch-hood?” She clapped a hand over her mouth, the anger leaking from her body like air from a punctured tire.

  Gabe reached over and took hold of her hand. The corner of her mouth twitched and she burst into laughter. Relieved, Gabe joined in.

  “Witch-hood,” she repeated, shaking her head. “You’re so lame, Gabriel Delgado.”

  “Yep, that’s me. Lame Gabe.” He squeezed her hand. “And it’s not true, that you shouldn’t have told me. Just give me a little time to process it.”

  Abby nodded.

  Ten minutes later, they pulled into a vast housing complex. Gabe slowed to a crawl and guided the car around a trio of small children riding Big Wheels, a big brown dog sleeping in the middle of the road, and a pick-up basketball game spilling out of a driveway into the street.

  “There’s the Sampson place. Number 402,” Abby said, pointing at the right side of a duplex, separated from its neighbor by a double garage. “The drapes are shut. I hope they’re home.”

  Gabe parked in the driveway and opened the back door of the car. Birdie’s eyes popped open. Unsmiling, she moved her head from side to side as if she were trying to orient herself.

  “Don’t you go disappearing on me again, ya hear?” Gabe whispered, checking to make sure the bracelet was in place.

  With Birdie cradled in his arms, Gabe approached the front porch, Abby trailing behind. Gabe hit the doorbell and listened for approaching footsteps, but heard only the loud blare of a television quiz show. He doubled up his fist and pounded on the door. The drapes on a front-facing window twitched open, framing a smooth brown face. A strand of shiny black hair fell across one cheek. The face bloomed into a smile.

  A few seconds later, the door flew open, revealing the girl who’d checked them out through the window. Gabe soon discovered he was not the recipient of the girl’s warm smile. She ignored Gabe and Abby and dropped a kiss on the top of Birdie’s head. “Angel baby! Auntie Becca missed you.”

  Birdie flapped her hands and grinned so broadly, her eyes squinched shut. A sense of relief stole through Gabe. He was learning to trust Birdie’s reaction to the people around her. This must be a safe place.

  Becca’s smile vanished. She closed the door and stepped out onto the porch. Her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion as she checked out Gabe and Abby. “Guess you must be the bio dad, huh?” She pointed at Abby. “Who’s she?”

  Gabe acknowledged his status as bio dad and introduced Abby, who’d retreated back into shy girl mode. “We’re looking for the baby’s mother,” he added. “Lizzie. We thought maybe you could help.”

  Becca made an impatient sound. She whipped her hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band extracted from her pocket. “No shit. I’m looking for her, too. Why do you need to find her?”

  Uncomfortable, Gabe took a step backward. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “We think the baby is in danger and we want to know how to protect her,” Abby said.

  Becca thought it over, then spun on her heel and opened the door. “Hey, you guys clear outta here. I need to talk to these people.” Without looking behind her, she stepped into the house.

  “I think we’re supposed to go in,” Abby whispered.

  The living room was dark and smelled of taco chips and beer. Becca switched on the lights and turned off the TV. An elderly Indian man, two teen boys, and three children exited the room, grumbling.

  “Oh, please,” Becca yelled. “Go watch your show in the bedroom. It’s just for a few minutes.”

  Gabe and Abby perched on the couch, the baby on Gabe’s lap. Becca stood next to the couch, gazing down at Birdie. She made brief eye contact with Gabe. “Do ya mind if I hold Angel?”

  Gabe looked at Birdie who was still smiling at Becca. He unbuckled the straps and said, “Sure, go ahead.”

  Becca scooped the baby from her car seat and murmured to her in a singsong language foreign to Gabe. Birdie reached up and patted Becca’s face with both hands.

  “Angel baby, Angel baby,” Becca crooned, rocking Birdie in her arms. Without looking at Gabe or Abby, she said, “She was my baby, too. I cried when we left Angel on your front porch. I thought I’d never see her again.”

  “Wait,” Gabe said. “You were there that night? With Lizzie?”

  “Well, duh. You think I’d let her drive all that way by herself? After we dropped off Angel, Lizzie was crying so hard, I had to drive.”

  Gabe swallowed the lump in his throat. He glanced at Abby who was blinking back tears.

  Becca plopped down on an overstuffed chair next to the couch and b
ounced Birdie on her knee.

  “Lizzie disappeared on Saturday. Right?” Gabe said.

  “Yeah,” Becca said. “It was her turn to work. She took off for lunch and never came back. Andy, our boss, called here looking for her.”

  “This Andy guy, did he say anything unusual happened that morning?” Abby said.

  “No, just the same old stuff. People buying pop and chips. Paying for their gas.” She paused and continued playing with the baby. “There was one thing, though. Some guy couldn’t get the gas pump to work and Lizzie went out to help him.”

  “Does that happen often?” Gabe said.

  “Every now and then. But Andy said the guy and Lizzie talked for a while. Andy was pissed because he thought she was trying to get out of work.”

  “Did Andy notice what this guy was driving?”

  “All he said was that it was a dinged-up old beater.”

  “Did you tell the deputy about it?” Abby said.

  Becca shrugged. “Don’t think so. Didn’t think it was important.”

  “Could it have been Donnie Hodges?” Gabe said.

  “That asshole?” Becca said. “Lizzie wouldn’t give him the time of day. She hated him.”

  Gabe stood. “Guess we’d better hit the road. I’ll leave my cell number. If you hear from her, please call me.”

  “Why? She told you not to contact her.”

  Abby rose. “Did she tell you why she had to leave the baby with Gabe?”

  “I know she was scared shitless, but she wouldn’t tell me why,” Becca said.

  “We think the baby is in danger,” Gabe said. “I really need to talk to Lizzie so I can keep Birdie safe.”

  With a bark of laughter, Becca handed him the baby. “Birdie? That’s what you call her? Lizzie said your name was Gabriel, like the angel Gabriel. That’s why she named the baby Angel Gabriela.”

  “The note she left was a little sketchy,” Gabe said. “No mention of a name. We started calling her Birdie because she makes little chirping sounds.”

  “Meep, meep,” Becca said. “Like the road runner.”

  Gabe latched Birdie into her car seat and scribbled his cell number on the newspaper lying on the coffee table. He thanked Becca for her time and headed for the door, followed by Abby.