A Son's Tale. Tara Quinn Taylor
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have for her, so how well could a child he’d never met fare with him?
“What about an Amber Alert? Did you issue one of those?”
“Not yet.” The detective looked down at the pages in front of her. “We have to be reasonably certain that there’s been an abduction before we can do that, which is why we’re questioning your ex-husband. As I told you already, there’s been no sign of foul play.”
Her ten-year-old son was missing! That was foul. Morgan resisted the temptation to jump up and run. To make up for what others weren’t doing. Not that she knew what that was.
Had Sammie really run away? Was he that unhappy with her?
As bad as that seemed, it was still better than thinking that her son had been taken against his will. That he was scared or…worse…
“But you’re still pursuing the possibility that he’s been kidnapped, aren’t you?”
“Of course. We have to consider the worst if we’re going to be assured of getting him back.”
“What about his backpack, his things? His baseball mitt? He took that to school with him this morning and he wouldn’t leave it behind.”
She’d just remembered. She’d told him he had to leave it at home, but when he’d said he wanted to show Jimmy how to catch during the picnic lunch and he’d promised to keep it in his locker the rest of the day, she’d given in. She’d told Detective Martin she’d forgotten about the mitt when she and Julie had discussed Sammie’s locker.
“There was no mitt in his locker,” the other woman said, frowning. “Or backpack, either. Who’s Jimmy Burns?”
“He’s a boy in his regular class at school and he’s in Sammie’s summer school art class. He just moved here last spring. He’s got Down syndrome, but he loves baseball and Sammie was going to teach him how to catch at lunch.”
“Does Sammie spend much time with Jimmy?”
“Yeah, a fair amount. His mom sometimes watches Sammie for me when I’m in class. Daddy only lets Mom see us a couple of times a week.”
Blind fear made her continue, to tell the detective everything. Her son’s life was in danger. She wasn’t going to spare herself. “According to my father, I’m a bad influence on my mother.”
“And on Sammie, too?”
“Only because I’m teaching him how to disrespect a parent and go against a parent’s wishes. If I’d conform to his way of thinking and move home and be pampered and protected, he’d think I’m a great mother.”
She didn’t want to stop talking now. If she kept talking she didn’t have to think. Could Sammie really be with his father? He’d never even met the man.
Already divorced by the time Sammie was born, she’d put “father unknown” on her son’s birth certificate to protect the boy from finding out who and what his father really was. And lost any chance for child support in the doing.
If Todd had her son, Sammie would be scared to death. And Todd? What would he do with him? How could he possibly keep the boy’s existence a secret? If Sammie didn’t turn up soon, his picture was going to be all over the evening news.
Todd had friends in low places, though, in spite of the moneyed crowd he now ran with.
She glanced up at Detective Martin, her entire body frozen with fear. “If Todd is behind this, he might turn my son over to associates from his old life for safekeeping until he gets the ransom.”
“We’re already checking on that. We’re also finding out who he knew in prison and if anyone is out or has contacts in the area.
“We also aren’t ruling out a nonrelation kidnapping.”
Morgan wasn’t sure which was worse—Todd or a stranger. “Even if ransom is paid, kidnappers don’t return victims who can identify them. And they don’t just take kids for ransom money.” She was killing herself and couldn’t stop. “I watch TV.”
Oh, God. Please don’t allow Sammie to pay for my sins… .
Elaine Martin squeezed her hand, quieting the screeching in Morgan’s mind enough for her to hear the detective when she said, “We get them back safely, too. And we’re getting way ahead of ourselves. At this point it doesn’t even look like Sammie’s been kidnapped. We just don’t want to leave any rocks unturned.”
The detective was right. Sammie was probably hiding out someplace, just to see if he could.
“I’m going to go see what, if anything, they’ve learned from Williams.” Detective Martin stood again.
“I should never have married that jerk,” Morgan said. “My father was right.”
He was also right outside the door. She could see him through the window that looked out into the reception room through which she’d been led. He was staring straight at her.
And she recognized that frown.
Her father was angry. Really angry.
And blaming her. Again.
Please, God, this time don’t let him be right.
CHAPTER FOUR
ONANORDINARYDAY, Cal would have emailed Joy back. He’d have tried to make things right for her. He was sad to see this one go. Joy was fun. Intelligent. Witty. Conversationally she’d kept him on his toes. In bed, they’d been plenty good enough.
He’d kind of been hoping that she’d become a semipermanent fixture in his life. He’d even thought about introducing her to his father some day.
On an ordinary day, he might even have called Joy.
Instead, Cal finished up a requisition request that was due that day for books for the fall semester, filed his class notes, found notes for Monday’s class and watched the time—and the phone.
Two hours had passed since Morgan Lowen had run from his class. She hadn’t called to apologize for interrupting class. To explain. To tell him that all was well.
She hadn’t called to relieve him—or anyone else in his class who might ask him—of any concern regarding her abrupt departure from the lecture that morning.
She’d been his student for four years, one of his favorite students, but beyond the teaching they’d talked a few times over the past several months, about her plans for the future since she was soon to graduate, about her son. About being a single parent, a student and working full-time. He’d meant it when he’d told her he’d help in any way he could.
He hoped she’d call.
Cal kept busy. He knew how to take his mind off from that over which he had no control. He’d perfected the art by the time he was ten.
Still, a child was missing. And Detective Ramsey Miller of the Comfort Cove Police Department had called him twice in less than twenty-four hours. It had been years since they’d heard anything from or about Comfort Cove.
And a child was missing.
Morgan Lowen—and Sammie—had nothing to do with Rose Sanderson, the mother from Comfort Cove, Massachusetts, who’d once been engaged to Cal’s father, and then accused him of kidnapping her daughter. Morgan and Sammie had no connection to Claire Sanderson, the little girl who’d been abducted, or to Claire’s sister, Emma.
The timing was coincidence. Bizarre coincidence. He knew that. Was completely, calmly certain of that.
But a child was missing…
His hands were typing before Cal had made a firm decision to access confidential student files. He typed his username. His password. Clicked a couple of times and then entered Morgan’s full name as he had it on his class register.
The