Baby Gone Bye Page 9

  Mackey looked them over. He addressed his question to Abby. “She yours?”

  Abby shook her head and pointed at Gabe. “His. I’m just helping out.”

  “Cute kid. Nice hair.” He poked Birdie in the tummy with a thick forefinger. She grabbed it with both hands and stuffed it in her mouth.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re getting some teeth, aren’t you, Sweetie?” Mackey said.

  “Teeth?” Gabe repeated.

  “Yes, Sherlock. Teeth. In case you haven’t noticed, babies are born without ’em. What is she, five or six months old?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Has she been fussy and puking a lot?”

  “Yeah.”

  Mackey extracted his finger and pried Birdie’s mouth open. He pointed at her lower gum. “Looky there. She’s got a couple ready to pop through.”

  Gabe peered in the baby’s mouth. The gum was red and inflamed, but he could clearly see a pair of tiny white teeth ready to erupt.

  “There’s stuff you can get at the drugstore to numb her gums. While you’re at it, get one of those gel teething rings you can put in the freezer. She’ll like that,” Mackey said.

  “Thanks, man. I had no clue,” Gabe said.

  “Obviously,” the deputy said. “I’ve got five kids. Ten grandkids.” He studied Gabe for a long moment. “Where’s her mama?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Gabe said. “I think she’s Elizabeth Perham, the missing girl.”

  Mackey heaved a heavy sigh. “Let’s go back to my office.”

  His office was little more than a closet with barely enough room for Mackey’s cluttered desk, much less three more people. Gabe and Abby leaned against the wall and watched Mackey paw through a pile of papers. He extracted the one he was looking for and scanned it quickly. When he finished, he handed Gabe a photo. “This the girl?”

  Gabe’s throat went dry when he looked into Lizzie Perham’s spooky pale-blue eyes. The headshot of Lizzie and another girl was probably taken in a do-it-yourself photo booth. Both gazed into the camera. Lizzie looked pensive, but her friend’s smile was big enough for both of them.

  He handed the photo back to Mackey. “Yeah, that’s her. Is the other girl Becca Sampson?”

  Mackey frowned at him. “How did you know that?”

  Gabe gulped. “I guess I heard they were friends.”

  “You guess?” Mackey sighed again. “Seems to me you’re using a lot of non-specific terms here. You think the mother of your child is Elizabeth Perham. You guess Becca Sampson is her friend. Tell me, Mr. Delgado, are you on a fishing trip?”

  Though he tried to hold it at bay, the deep-seated shame Gabe felt about his previous actions involving Elizabeth Perham boiled up, the flush warming his face. No matter what he said, he knew he was going to look like an asshole.

  Before he could formulate an answer, Abby spoke up. “Mr. Mackey, I mean, Deputy Mackey. Gabe is trying to do the right thing. Yes, it’s true the baby was conceived under less than perfect circumstances. But, believe me, Gabe is doing his best to care for her. You probably don’t know this, but the baby’s mother dropped her off on Gabe’s front porch and took off. Here’s the deal. Gabe’s still in high school. Most guys his age would dump the kid off at social services, eh?”

  One of Deputy Mackey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  Gabe gave Abby an appreciative smile before adding, “That’s why I need to know Elizabeth’s story. Like why did she take off? And then there’s the whole medical history thing.”

  “So I’m assuming you didn’t know each other long before doing the deed?” Mackey said.

  “Exactly,” Gabe said.

  A long silence followed in which the deputy first studied Gabe and the baby and then dropped his gaze to the paper clenched in his hand. “Okay, kid, here’s the deal. Up front, I gotta tell you I don’t approve of one night stands, and I certainly don’t approve of kids your age having sex without taking precautions but—”

  “Me, neither,” Gabe interrupted. “It’s complicated.”

  Mackey held up a hand. “I wasn’t finished. Thanks to this little lady,” he nodded toward Abby, “it sounds like you’re being responsible. I wish I could tell you more about Elizabeth Perham, but we’ve reached a dead-end. It’s like she vanished off the face of the earth. But, I will tell you what we know so far.”

  Gabe nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “She was reported missing by Joe Sampson and his daughter Becca Sampson . . .” The deputy went on to describe the same information Simon had unearthed in his computer search.

  “What about the couple Elizabeth was living with before she left the baby with Gabe?” Abby said.

  Mackey snorted in disgust. “The Hodges. Those two are something else. When the report came out about Elizabeth going missing, they said not to bother looking for her, that she was a skank and had probably hit the road with a passing truck driver. They claimed they hadn’t seen her since she took the baby and moved in with the Sampsons. I’m afraid that’s the end of the road. We released the information to the news media, so leave me your phone number. If we get a lead, I’ll let you know.”

  Gabe thanked the deputy and they headed for the car.

  “Time to visit the Hodges?” Abby said.

  “Can’t wait.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE HODGES LIVED west of Yakima in a place called Tampico.

  “Shouldn’t be this hard to find,” Gabe said as they bounced down yet another rutted dirt road winding through yet another apple orchard.

  “How about asking for directions?” Abby shouted over Birdie’s wails. The baby was truly bummed out. Even her thumb wasn’t doing the job.

  “Guess I’ll have to use the GPS,” Gabe muttered.

  “What?” Abby spoke sharply. “You’ve had a GPS all this time and weren’t using it?” She pinched her lips together and shook her head.

  Gabe pulled over to the side of the road and programmed the address into the GPS on his cell phone.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled the Honda into a clearing littered with greasy car parts, a burning barrel, and several scrawny cats, all of whom bounded away as Gabe pulled into the dirt yard and parked. A double-wide mobile home squatted in the middle of the property. A lopsided wooden storage shed with its door ajar was the only outbuilding.

  “I can see why Lizzie ran away,” Abby muttered.

  Gabe jumped out of the car and extracted Birdie from her car seat, patting her back until her sobs subsided into little hiccups of outrage. He sheltered her head as a sudden gust of wind blew in from the west. Dust swirled. A giant tumbleweed rolled through the clearing and slammed up against the end of the house. The door to the shed banged shut.

  Abby stood next to him, gazing at the dreary surroundings. “So what’s the plan?”

  Before Gabe could answer, the front door to the mobile opened a crack. A hatchet-faced man with close-set eyes peered through. “Whaddaya want?”

  “Are you Donnie Hodges?” Gabe said.

  “Yeah, who’s asking?” The man pushed the door open and stepped onto the rickety wooden platform that served as his front porch. Dressed in a black Harley Davidson tee and faded jeans that hung low on his narrow hips, Hodges furtive gaze darted back and forth between Gabe and Abby before fixing on the baby. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth.

  “My name’s Gabe Delgado, sir, and this is my friend, Abby. We’re looking for . . .”

  “Sheila!” Hodges yelled. “Get your ass out here. They’ve got the kid.”

  Abby gasped. Gabe clutched the baby tighter.

  A woman joined Hodges on the porch. A plump bleached blond with black roots, Sheila wore a pink bathrobe and red flip-flops. She spotted the baby and rushed toward them with outstretched arms, screechi
ng, “Darling angel! Come to Memaw.”

  Gabe and Abby inched back toward the car. Hodges joined his wife, a grimace of a smile on his face. “You must be the daddy. We’re happy to take the kid off your hands. You being so young and all.”

  “Um,” Gabe said. “Actually we’re not here to drop off the baby. I’m looking for Lizzie.”

  Donnie’s lip curled into a sneer. “Why? She couldn’t even take care of her own kid. She’s probably out somewhere getting knocked up again.”

  Sheila simpered and patted her husband’s arm. “Now, Grandpa, don’t talk like that. This young man was nice enough to bring Angel back to us. He might think we won’t take good care of her.”

  “Why do you call her Angel?” Abby said, staring at the couple through narrowed eyes.

  “Why do you think? It’s her name,” Donnie said, reaching for the baby.

  Birdie, who’d been snuggled against Gabe’s chest, half asleep, jerked suddenly and peeked over her shoulder at the Hodges. Her brown eyes widened, her body went rigid, and she began shrieking. She clutched Gabe’s Henley shirt with both hands and buried her face against his chest.

  Gabe spoke to Abby. “How about taking her to the car while I talk to the Hodges.”

  Abby nodded and reached out for the squalling red-faced baby. Awkwardly, Gabe tried to loosen Birdie’s death grip on the open neckline of his shirt. As fast as a striking snake, Donnie Hodges grabbed the baby, tucked her under one arm like a football, and sprinted toward the house.

  “The bracelet!” Abby screamed. “It’s hooked on your shirt button.”

  Shaking with fear and anger, Gabe stuffed the bracelet in his pocket and charged after Donnie who made it to the front door before he realized he held nothing but empty air. The baby was gone.

  Gabe grabbed hold of Donnie’s greasy ponytail and jerked. “Asshole! Now look what you’ve done.”

  “Ow, ow! Let go, man. I didn’t know the kid could disappear like that.”

  “The hell you didn’t,” Gabe snarled.

  Sheila pounded on Gabe’s back, screeching, “Let him loose! The kid belongs with us. We took care a that girl all those years ’cause we knew . . .”

  Gabe released Donnie and turned to face Sheila. “Knew what?”

  Sheila’s gaze slid away from Gabe. “Nothin.’”

  “Stop yelling at each other and start looking for Birdie,” Abby shouted. She ran to the car and peered through the window.

  Sheila brushed by Gabe and opened the door. “Donnie and I will check inside. Go look in the backyard. Maybe she’s out there.”

  “You think I’m stupid?” Gabe said, crowding in behind the couple.

  Sheila didn’t bother to answer. The house was dimly lit and smelled of cigarette smoke and grease. A ratty-looking couch and fake leather recliner faced a large flat-screen TV tuned to a shopping network. This is where Lizzie grew up, Gabe thought, fighting the wave of pity threatening to swamp his rational thought. Must. Find. Baby.

  Donnie murmured something to Sheila and trotted down the hall toward the back of the house. Sheila went into the kitchen. Gabe’s head swiveled. Obviously they had a plan. Divide and conquer.

  Would Birdie respond to his voice? Gabe switched off the blaring television set and yelled, “Birdie, Daddy’s coming! Where are you, baby?”

  No sound but that of his own racing heart. After a quick glance into the kitchen, Gabe went after Donnie and found him peering into a grungy shower stall. An empty shower stall. Gabe quickly checked the two bedrooms, Donnie stumbling along behind him.

  “Gabe, come quick!” Abby’s voice was tight with urgency.

  Gabe shoved Donnie to one side and sprinted to the front door. Abby’s face was pasty white and she looked grim. “I found her, but there’s something you need to see.” She turned and sprinted toward the shed, Gabe close behind.

  Abby had propped the door open with a large rock to keep it from banging in the wind. Before he stepped into the shed, Gabe heard a sound that evoked both joy and sadness. Joy because the baby had been found. But the sound she was making, the soft, pathetic whimper, was simply not in her repertoire. It pierced Gabe’s heart and he fought back tears of guilt. How the hell did he think he could keep Birdie safe when he’d allowed this to happen?

  He stepped into the shed. Birdie was lying on her back on a filthy sleeping bag that looked a lot like the one from the VW bus. Her head was turned away from Gabe, her left hand reaching out and patting a particularly nasty stain on the sleeping bag.

  Gabe crouched next to her. “Birdie? I’m sorry, baby.”

  Still patting the sleeping bag and whimpering softly, Birdie slowly turned her head and stared at Gabe. Tears leaked from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. A thought sprang unbidden into Gabe’s mind. She looks so sad. She looks like Lizzie.

  Gabe snatched Birdie from the filthy sleeping bag and cradled her against his shoulder, trying to soothe her pathetic cries.

  “Look around, Gabe,” Abby said. “Somebody was locked up in here and kicked the door in to get away.”

  Gabe’s blood ran cold when he gazed around the interior of the shed. It was littered with empty fast food wrappers and drink cups. A roll of toilet paper was on the dirt floor next to a bucket in the corner.

  Abby’s voice was shaking when she said, “Check out the blood stains on the sleeping bag. There’s also blood on that blue towel next to the bucket and blood spatters on the walls. Looks like a butcher shop in here.”

  Sickened, Gabe grabbed the sleeping bag with one hand and pulled it out of the shed into the daylight. It was covered with brown stains, the color of dried blood. His stomach did a couple of flips. “What the hell happened in there?” he whispered.

  The baby continued to whimper.

  “Gabe,” Abby said. “If Lizzie was the person locked up in the shed, maybe Birdie can sense her mother was lying on the sleeping bag. Maybe that’s why she ended up in there. Try stepping away from it and see if she stops crying.”

  Sounded a little weird to Gabe, but really, what hadn’t been weird about his life lately? He took ten strides away from the sleeping bag, making sure Birdie’s face was still against his shoulder. Birdie’s cries softened. She pushed away from his chest, raised her head, and gave him a watery smile.

  “Hi, baby,” Gabe whispered, swiping a hand across his eyes. “Welcome back.” He slipped the bracelet on her arm.

  Abby dragged the sleeping bag back inside the shed, closed the door and hurried over to Gabe. “We need to talk to that deputy again. Let him know what we saw out here. Maybe he can get some answers out of Donnie and Sheila.”

  “Speaking of which,” Gabe said. “I wonder what they’re up to. I’m surprised they didn’t follow us out here.”

  Abby tugged at his arm. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

  Halfway to the car, the door to the mobile home burst open and Donnie stepped out. “You’re not going anywhere until you give us the kid.”

  “Who’s going to stop me?” Gabe said.

  “I am.” Sheila stepped off the porch and walked toward them, a shotgun in her right hand. She lifted it, pointed it at Abby, and sighted down the barrel.

  “Give us the baby. Now.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  GABE SWORE UNDER his breath and whispered, “Take Birdie and get behind me.”

  Abby ignored him and took a step toward Sheila.

  Gabe’s heart leaped in his chest. “What are you doing?”

  “Screw it! I’ve had enough of these two.” She pointed a finger at Sheila. “You think you’re tough ’cause you have a gun, eh? Well, guess what? You can’t touch us.”

  She pulled Birdie’s pacifier out of her jeans pocket and extended her right arm. She turned her body in a clockwise direction, inscribing a circle in the air with the pacif
ier, a circle whose boundary did not include Donnie and Sheila. As she turned to face all four directions, she chanted, Magic circle, I conjure thee. Mother Earth and Father Sky, protect this sacred place and keep us from harm. Evil may not enter. And so it is.

  Gabe clutched the baby tighter. “Wha . . . wha . . . ?” he stammered.

  Donnie, frozen in his tracks, stared at Abby, mouth agape.

  “That’s crap,” Sheila said, aimed the shotgun at Abby, and pulled the trigger.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  The cartridges bounced harmlessly off an invisible shield and landed in the dust. Birdie screamed. Sheila’s eyes rolled in fear and she lowered the gun. Donnie began inching backward.

  Abby pointed the pacifier at the two. “Drop the gun and go in the house. If you don’t, I’ll turn you into fat, slow, mice. I noticed a couple of cats hanging around. You won’t last long.”

  Sheila lowered the gun to the ground and ran for the house, Donnie at her heels.

  “I don’t know just happened,” Gabe said. “But let’s hit the road.”

  “Wait,” Abby ordered. “I have to lower the circle.”

  Abby reversed the spell, this time moving counterclockwise. Again, she paused as she faced each direction, murmuring, “Mother Earth, Father Sky, I thank you and bid you farewell.”

  “Now. Go.” Abby said.

  Clutching Birdie, Gabe grabbed Abby’s hand and ran for the car. He thrust the baby into Abby’s arms. “Jump in and hang on tight. We’ll stop down the road and put her in the car seat.”

  “What about the gun?” Abby said. “Should we take it to the sheriff?”

  Gabe gunned the motor and stomped down on the gas pedal. The tires spit dirt as he cranked the steering wheel and headed back toward town. He glanced over at Abby. Her face was pasty white. The freckles on her cheeks stood out like a connect-the-dots puzzle. She was shivering in spite of the sunlight heating the interior of the car.

  “And if he asks how we got it?”

  She drew a shaky breath and averted her gaze. “Good point.”