Cry Mercy

SEVENTEEN

Well, you hardly look rested.” Trula watched Emme come in through the back door and head for the coffeemaker. “Did you forget that weekends are for taking it easy?”

“I took it easy.” Emme yawned and reached for a red mug that had Commit Random Acts of Kindness printed in white letters on one side.

“How did your house-hunt go this weekend?” Susanna blew into the kitchen the way she always did, smiling and light as a summer breeze. “Any luck?”

She looked over the selection of mugs Trula had set out that morning and settled on Send lawyers, guns, and money.

“I did see one place I liked, but it didn't have much of a yard,” Emme said. “How ′bout you? How was your weekend?”

“Oh, you know. same old, same old.” She poured her coffee carefully into the tall, narrow mug. “Not nearly as exciting as looking for a new home.”

“We spent all day yesterday going from house to house. Chloe's thinking she might need to have a dog one of these days, and a swing set. The one place I liked didn't have much room for either.”

“So you're going to keep on looking?” Susanna asked, as she opened the refrigerator looking for the half-and-half.

“Already out,” Trula told her. “Over on the counter.”

“Any closer and it would have bitten me,” Susanna muttered. To Emme she said, “So I'm assuming you find Conroy to your liking and you plan to stick around for a while.”

Before Emme could answer, Trula interjected, “Of course, she's staying in Conroy.”

“I do want to stay here. I thought I'd start looking now for a house because maybe I'll have found a place by the time my probationary period is over, and if I make the cut, I'll be in a position to buy something.” Emme added sweetener to her cup. “I really do like the area, and Chloe is so happy in her new school with her new friends.”

“Mrs. McHugh is an excellent teacher,” Trula agreed. “And there are a lot of really nice families in Kevin's parish.”

“It's a godsend to working mothers like me that the school runs all year round, and I think it's really cool that Mrs. McHugh is teaching the kids Spanish. It's a really useful language.”

“I agree, but Mrs. McHugh isn't teaching the kids Spanish,” Trula said.

Emme frowned. “I thought Chloe said she was learning all those Spanish words and phrases at school.”

“At school, maybe, but not in school.” Trula began to rinse off her breakfast dishes. “She told me that the lady on the playground has been teaching her.”

“What lady on the playground?” Emme blanched and set her cup unsteadily on the counter. “What lady on the playground?”

Surprised at the alarm in Emme's voice, Trula turned around to face her. “She said there's a woman who talks to her on the playground. I'm thinking it may be one of Kevin's Hispanic parishioners, because Chloe said the woman was dark, like her, and that she comes everyday and that she-”

Emme grabbed her bag and left the kitchen almost at a sprint, her car keys in her hand. Through the window, Trula and Susanna watched as she ran to her car, passing Mallory without greeting. Within seconds, the small sedan was making a squealing turn in the driveway and headed out the gate.

Mallory came through the back door, which Emme had left open, with a puzzled look on her face.

“What was that all about?” she asked. “Emme acted as if she didn't even see me.”

Trula shrugged. “We were talking about Chloe learning some Spanish words and phrases from a woman who shows up at the playground at school, and next thing we know, Emme's out of here on two wheels.”

She went to the wall phone and lifted the receiver. “I think I'd better give Kevin a heads up. I'd bet my last dime she's headed for Our Lady of Angels.”

Her heart pounding, Emme drove to the school in half the time it normally took.

Had she been found out? Had her movements since she left California somehow been traced? The combination of a mother's fear and an overactive imagination had her assuming the worst by the time she pulled up in front of the church and school. She all but ran to the playground-empty of children this time of the morning, but there, there at the fence…

A woman stood gazing into the playground as if waiting for someone.

Emme broke into a run.

She was halfway across the playground when she heard someone calling her name.

“Emme! Emme, wait!”

Without slowing down, she looked back over her shoulder to see Father Kevin running after her. Thank God, she thought. He'd help her…

“Emme, hold up,” he called.

“Kevin, I'm so happy to see you, you have no idea.” She leaned forward slightly, her hands resting on her thighs, her breath coming in gulps. She'd been unaware of how out of shape she was after a few weeks of inactivity.

He took her gently by the arm and led her in the direction of the fence. “There's someone I want you to meet.”

“Kevin, this woman…” Emme grasped his arm. “She's…”

“Maria Clemente. She's been a member of Our Lady of Angels parish for more years than I have.” He continued to walk at an even pace, forcing Emme to slow down as well. “Mrs. Clemente, I'd like you to meet Emme Caldwell. She's the mother of your new friend, Chloe. I believe she's come to thank you for teaching her daughter and the other children a few words and phrases in Spanish.”

His hand still lightly on Emme's arm, he added, “Mrs. Clemente-mamacita to the children-knows every child in the parish. She's sort of our unofficial guardian angel.”

Maria Clemente smiled broadly. “Your daughter is a quick study. She catches on like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Smart as a whip, that one is. And a real charmer.”

Emme was speechless, her brain scrambling for words.

“Mrs. Clemente brings flowers from her garden to church every morning and stays after mass to dust the altar. She noticed Chloe in the playground and asked if perhaps she was of Hispanic origins, thinking perhaps a new family had moved into the neighborhood, that maybe she could assist them in some way to get settled.”

His words swirled around in Emme's brain and she struggled to follow him.

“I told her about you and Chloe.”

“I'd called hola to her one day, thinking perhaps she knew the language. She did not, but she asked what the word meant. The next day, when I was coming from the church, she called to me. ‘Hola, mamacita.’” The woman beamed. “Such a smart cookie. She wanted to learn more, to surprise you, she said.”

“Yes,” Emme found her voice. “Yes, I was surprised.”

The smile began to fade from Maria Clemente's face. “Was that all right? Did I presume-”

“No, no, it's fine.” Relief washed over Emme and with it came a deep sense of embarrassment. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Clemente. I appreciate you taking the time to teach her.”

“It's nothing.” The smile returned to the woman's face. “She's a joy to be around.”

“Thank you.” Emme could have cried. “Thank you so much.”

“I'll see you in the morning, Mrs. Clemente,” Kevin told her.

“You will. And you let me know if the Chastians will need flowers for the altar for the funeral on Thursday,” Mrs. Clemente replied. “I have some dahlias that should be open by midweek that are the size of dinner plates. Maybe we can make some arrangements, save the family some money.”

“You're kind to think of others, as always.”

“Goodbye, Chloe's mother. God bless.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Clemente. It was nice meeting you.”

After she'd walked away, Emme turned to the priest and said, “She seems so… nice.”

“Pillar of the community.” Father Kevin nodded. “Don't know what I'd do without her.”

“Trula called you, didn't she?” Emme's face burned. If Father Kevin hadn't been around, what might she have said to that good woman?

“She did.”

“She told you-”

He nodded. “Pretty much everything. Everything except why the thought of someone teaching your daughter a few harmless phrases in Spanish caused such panic.”

“It wasn't the phrases,” Emme said, torn between telling him the truth and fearing the consequences. “It's… it's okay, Kevin. I apologize for…”

She was clearly struggling.

“Emme, I don't know what made you feel so threatened, or what you are afraid of, but I'm here for you if you want to talk about it.”

“Thank you,” she said, wishing she could unburden herself, but knowing she could not.

He walked her to her car in silence. As she slid behind the wheel, he told her, “If you're in some kind of trouble, maybe we can help.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but it's something I'm going to have to deal with on my own.”

“You know, there's Robert… he'd be there for you, too.” Before she could speak, he added, “We're an odd little group, Emme, at the Mercy Street Foundation. But we're a family, and from what I can see, you and Chloe are ours now. Families stick together, you know, so if you need…” He sighed. “Whatever you need, we'll all be here if you change your mind.”

Too choked up to even say thank you, Emme merely nodded, and then drove off. When she reached the stop sign at the end of the street, she looked in her rearview mirror. Kevin was still standing in front of the church, watching.

You and Chloe are ours now… His words rang in her ears. Families stick together…

She turned the corner, pulled the car to the curb, covered her face, and wept.

It took her almost an hour to pull herself together. So much had happened over the past few weeks, and she'd had no outlet. She missed Steffie more at that moment than she had since she'd left California. They'd agreed to keep contact to a minimum for a while, knowing that there was a good chance Navarro's people would be watching Steffie, maybe even tapping into her phones or watching her mail. Emme missed her friend's counsel, missed her levelheaded advice, her sense of humor… hell, she missed having a friend. There was no one she could talk to about the mess her life was in at that moment. Trula, maybe, but her loyalties lay with Robert; Mallory, too. Father Kevin's offer of friendship had been genuine, she knew that, but she knew, too, that he had no idea of the secrets she was keeping from everyone. Of course, he was a priest. He could probably handle the shock of finding out that everything she'd told them about herself was a lie. He must have heard a lot worse than even that over the years.

The only honest part of her life right now was the work she was doing for the foundation. She was giving the search for Belinda Hudson her best efforts. She was getting closer to the heart of it-the answer was with Donor 1735, she knew that much-but he was still clouded in mist.

And then there was Nick. He was the one complication she hadn't planned on. All her professional life, she'd made a point of not getting involved with people connected in any way with any case she worked. She'd spent the past four years devoting her time and energy and total focus on Chloe. For most of that time, she'd convinced herself that at this time of her life, she didn't need anyone else. Work and her daughter had been more than enough for her. Now she wasn't so sure.

She wiped her wet face with a tissue she found in her bag and blew her nose.

“No time to feel sorry for you,” she chided herself. “A girl is still missing. There's work to be done.”

She drove through the gates somewhat sheepishly, waving to the security hut without really looking at the man who was stationed there this morning. Having practically blown through the gates on her way out earlier, she was too embarrassed to meet his eyes now. She parked near the side of the house and entered through the front, hoping to slip in without being seen.

She should have known better.

“Are you all right?” Trula was just coming through the front hall when Emme opened the door. “Dear lord, child, the way you fled this morning, you'd have thought demons were at your heels.”

“I'm okay. And I'm sorry.” She could have added, And yes, there were demons at my heels, but that would have required more explanation than she was prepared to give. “I didn't mean to upset anyone. There was just… just something I had to do.”

“Honey, if something is bothering you-oh, hell, clearly something is. Maybe there's something we can do to help.”

Emme started down the hall, not wanting to look back on that kind face. She'd be tempted to spill it all, everything about Chloe's father and about her own deceit. Once they knew-Trula and Robert and Mallory and Kevin-they'd be showing her the door. Falsifying her résumé, getting Steffie to lie and cover for her… what would happen to Steffie if the truth came out? She'd be bounced from her job in a heartbeat. Emme flushed scarlet just thinking of the terrible position she'd put her friend in.

I had to save Chloe, she reminded herself.

“Emme?” Trula stood in the hallway, a worried look on her face. “You know I'd-we'd-help you in any way we could.”

Emme nodded. “I know, Trula. And I appreciate it more than you could know.”

She continued down the hall and quietly went into her room. The kindness of everyone around her had been so unexpected, it had overwhelmed her. Last night she'd been thinking that in a pinch, it would be her, Trula, and Nick. Now she found herself for the first time ever feeling part of something larger than herself. It was more than she could think about and still function the way she needed to. She pushed away the events of the morning and stuffed her emotions back into that place where she kept things she didn't want to think about, and got to work.

First things first. She dialed Henry Carroll-Wilson's cell phone. Forced to leave another message when voice mail picked up, she tried Lori's number. No answer there, either, so she left basically the same message she'd left for her brother.

Next on the list: Aaron.

She turned on her computer and searched her email. There was still no response from him. She called Nick and was disappointed to have to leave a voice mail for him as well. She couldn't think of much to say other than “Please let me know if you've heard from Aaron.”

When she hadn't heard back from anyone by noon, she decided she was losing too much time waiting. She hunted through her file for the article about Aaron. Skimming, she made notes on an index card. His last name was Sparks. His hometown was Gettysburg and his father was from Rising Sun, Maryland. She went online and found a phone listing for A. Sparks in Gettysburg and dialed the number. The call was forwarded to another line, and she was expecting voice mail to pick up when the call was answered.

“Hello?”

“Is this Aaron Sparks?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes. Who's this?”

Emme introduced herself and explained that she was following up on the email he received from Nick Perone.

“Oh. Right. Belle's uncle.” He stifled a yawn. “I didn't get around to answering that yet.”

“Well, since I have you on the phone, I can save you the trouble. I'll ask you a few quick questions, you can give me a few quick answers, and hopefully that will take care of it.”

“Is Belle really missing?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Aaron. She really is missing.”

“You swear?”

“I swear. Why would I make that up?”

“Because she…” he hesitated.

“Because she what, Aaron?”

“Because it's just weird timing, that's all,” he mumbled.

“Because she was looking for Donor 1735?”

“No. Because she found him.”

“She found-” Emme took a deep breath. She hadn't expected this.

“Well, she thought she did, anyway.”

“Did she give you a name?”

“Uh-uh. She just sent me an email one time that said bingo, all in capital letters. I wrote back and asked if she'd gotten lucky and she wrote back that she was pretty sure she had, that she'd keep me posted but I didn't hear from her again.”

“That was your last contact from her? Do you remember when you got that email?”

“I think it was after Christmas break from school.”

Emme thought for a moment before asking, “How did she track her donor, Aaron?”

“Same way I tracked mine. I walked her through the process, but she was pretty much doing it on her own. Belle was one smart chick.”

“Can you walk me through it? I'm guessing she contacted you first via email and told you she wanted to search for her donor the way you had.”

“Right.”

“Then what?”

“Mostly, at first, she asked pretty general questions. Like, what lab did I use and how did I find it. Stuff like that.”

“How did you find the lab?”

“Online. That was the easy part.”

“So then she asked you to help her and you said yes. What steps did-”

“Well, actually, no. I told her I couldn't help her.”

“Why wouldn't you help someone who was trying to do the same thing you did?”

“I said I couldn't help her, not that I wouldn't.”

“I'm not following you, Aaron.”

“Belle wanted to find her donor the same way I found mine, but that wasn't possible. I tracked my donor through my Y chromosome DNA.” He paused to let that sink in.

“Which Belle, being a female, wouldn't have.” Emme gave herself a mental slap on the forehead. “The Y chromosome is passed male to male, father to son.”

“Right. It's sort of like the way the last name is passed on, you know? Boys get the X chromosome from their mom, and the Y from their dad. Girls get two X chromosomes, one from each parent. No Y chromosome, no Y chromosome-DNA test. No way to find the donor using the method I used.”

“But you just said that Belle later told you she found her donor.” Emme frowned. “How did she do that without the right DNA?”

“I didn't ask her who she got it from. But she came back a few weeks later and told me she had the DNA goods. I walked her through it from there.”

“She didn't say where the DNA came from?”

“Nope.”

One of the brothers, Emme thought. It had to have come from one of the brothers. Henry? The twins? Justin?

“Can you take me through the steps you went through with her?”

“Oh, sure. But…”

“But what?”

“But I might not have the information she sent me about 1735 anymore. I don't know if I kept all that.”

“What information?” Emme frowned.

“Where he was born and when. Where he went to college. What his ethnic background was. All the stuff the clinic would have given to Belle's mom.” He paused. “You know how I found my donor, right? I knew where he was born and the date and his ethnic background, which was Italian. After I had the DNA markers run through the online genealogy databases, I found a couple of guys with the same Italian last name. I went online and found one person who was born on the right date in the right city with that last name. So even if you had the DNA from the donor, without the rest of the information, you're not going to find him.”

“Can you check to see if you still have Belle's info and get back to me?”

“Sure. I'll do that right now. Can you hold on?”

“I've got all day.”

It only took six minutes.

“Sorry,” he told her. “I must have deleted those emails.”

“And there's no way to get them back?”

“I don't think so.” He grew quiet. “Maybe… I don't know. I can ask my buddy. He's like a super tech whiz.”

“Would you do that, Aaron? Please.”

He hesitated. “I'm wondering if this is a cool thing to do or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was one thing to help Belle find her donor, but I don't know about this. How do I know who you really are? How do I know this is really, like, kosher?”

She gave him the website address for the Mercy Street Foundation. “Check it out. Check out Robert Magellan. Belle has been missing since January, Aaron. Her uncle came to us to help find her because the police had no luck. There's a real good possibility that maybe she found her donor, maybe he knows where she is.” She felt herself losing patience. “And besides all that, we have no other leads.”

“I guess it's okay,” he said. “I'll call my friend and see what he can do.”

“Thank you, Aaron. If we find her-if she's still alive-we'll have you to thank.”

There was a long silence on the phone. “You think maybe she's not alive?” he asked, his voice quivering.

She could have kicked herself for that slip.

“There's always that chance when someone's been missing for so long.”

“Shit.”

“That pretty much sums it up,” she agreed. “Call me after you talk to your buddy. I'll be waiting to hear from you.”

She hung up and pondered her next step. She had the names of four of the male-donor siblings. Which one would Belle have contacted for a DNA swab?

Henry was the most likely. She tried calling him again, but had to leave another message. She didn't have phone numbers for Justin or the twins. She went to the donor-sibling website and posted a general message.

It seems that Belle was pretty close to finding Donor 1735, but apparently she had help from one of you. The Y chromosome-DNA test that could provide information about the male line would have had to come from one of you guys-because girls don't have Y chromosomes. You can email me privately if you like, but I'd like to confirm which one of you gave Belle your DNA.

Thanks-Emme Caldwell

She sat back and rubbed her temples, berating herself. She certainly was no DNA expert, but she certainly should have figured out that you couldn't trace Y chromosomes through a female offspring.

She got up and walked to the window and looked out on a perfect summer day. Which of your brothers came through for you, Belle, and what did you do with the results of his test?

What would I have done? Emme asked herself.

I'd have found the lab, just like Aaron said, and I would have sent the swab in. Then when I got the results back, I would have sent them in to the databases, just like Aaron did. But first, before I sent the report anywhere, I would have made a copy. Several copies. I would have kept at least one-maybe more than one, in different places, just for safety's sake, since I wouldn't take chances with something that precious. And I would have sent a copy to the brother who'd given me his DNA.

She walked back to her computer and checked her mail. Nothing yet. She wondered how long she'd have to wait before one of the boys owned up-if he'd own up at all. She sent out one more email to the four boys, an addendum, telling them it was okay if they didn't want to own up to having given Belle their DNA, but in the alternative, a copy of the DNA profile Belle had sent back to them would be just fine. She typed the address of the foundation on the bottom of the email and hit send. There was nothing she could do now except wait.