Unspoken (40 page)

She was already on the edge of losing it, and his words intensified her struggle. He kissed her hair. “Do me the favor of going ahead and crying until you can’t cry anymore. Okay?”

She curled herself into him, and sobs shook her whole body.

Bryce refolded the cold washcloth he’d gotten to rest across her eyes. “Better?”

“Getting there.”

He shifted to make it easier for her to stretch out on the couch.

“I want to love you.”

His heart skipped at her soft words. He brushed back her hair. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever told me.” He smiled. “You’ll love me one day. I’m a pretty loveable guy.”

She half smiled back. “I’m numb, Bryce, even for me. This is survival mode. Emotions ice over for later. Tears aside, it’s hard to feel much right now.”

“It will pass. Once they find him, you’ll start to breathe again. This will be fully over for the first time.”

“I need it to be.” She was silent for a long time. “I don’t remember him,” she whispered. “The photo being taken. The man.”

He heard the fear in her voice. “If you ever do, we’ll deal with it.” She couldn’t take any more tonight, and he desperately needed to yank her out of the past for a while. He ran his hand down her arm. “Hungry?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Poached eggs and toast with strawberry jelly would do you a world of good right now.”

“Better start with just the toast.”

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed her forehead, then went to get them some breakfast.

Bryce thought life entered a kind of limbo while they waited. Ellie came over every day, tugging Charlotte into conversations about her sketches, the gallery, the direction she wanted to head next with her art. They started discussing the logistics of a wall-sized image, fitting together various sketches like a patchwork quilt into one mosaic. The idea absorbed a few days of Charlotte’s attention, but then was set aside as something she didn’t want to attempt this year.

Bryce started taking Charlotte running every morning, letting her steadily run for an hour on the track before waving her in to cool off. They both struggled with trying to ignore the more visible security around them everywhere they went.

Charlotte threw him a birthday party and final coin celebration, inviting his family and friends over. Paul and Ann brought a gift of the final coin, framed, in sequence with a set of wedding pictures they’d arranged with Ellie’s help. Bryce hung it in the entryway near the housewarming-gift sketch Charlotte had done of Bishop Chicago.

Bryce enjoyed the party more for the fact it gave Charlotte a distraction than a celebration that he was a year older. For one of her wedding presents he had bought her a custom-made pool cue, and she’d named it
Elizabeth
since the ivory in the cue was engraved with English ivy and roses. She now returned the favor for his birthday, giving him a pool cue with a pattern she’d sketched that melded together his favorite cuff-link designs. They had played an hour’s worth of pool together to try out the gift, both content to end the play when the score of games won was tied.

They talked briefly about her upcoming conversation with Gage. The reporter had agreed that if Christopher was charged only with the California crimes and the FBI didn’t pursue the photo, he would keep Christopher’s involvement in the Bazoni case out of the book—on the condition Charlotte talked with
him not only about baby Connor, but also would discuss her thoughts about that first day and her impulse to push Tabitha out of the van. Charlotte took the deal to further protect her sister.

And they waited for word that Christopher Caleb Cox had been found.

Charlotte tapped on his office door. “Want some help?”

Bryce saw in a glance the restless energy that refused to let her stay with anything for very long. He took a stack of checks off the printer. “Why don’t you sign for a while?” He offered her the checks and a pen. He’d automate the signature process eventually when the sheer number of checks became an issue, but for now he liked this hands-on final step.

She pulled her chair up to the edge of the desk and began to neatly sign checks. “How much money is left?”

Bryce realized it was the first time she’d asked. He clicked over to the account balance of that morning. “Eight billion three hundred eighty-nine million.”

“We’ve still got some work to do. At least you do,” she offered.

He smiled. “A little.” He slid checks into envelopes. “Let’s go to the gallery for an hour this evening. Ellie is putting
Florist at Work
on display, along with
Lava Flows
. We should go enjoy how they look in a gallery setting.”

“Maybe tomorrow. I think I want us to go for a drive tonight.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

“Let’s find an all-night diner with great cheeseburgers somewhere. I’d like to just people-watch for a while, have some time to clear my thoughts.”

“We can do that.”

The drive home was peaceful, music on low, the conversation drifting into long stretches of silence.

“I love you, Bryce.”

His heartbeat skipped. He looked over at her.

“I don’t know what that means exactly, if anything can change, but I wanted to say the words,” Charlotte said softly.

He reached over and took her hand in his. “The words matter. A lot.” Emotions were rising so quickly they were overwhelming him.

“I was going to wait until we got home to say it, but it seemed easier when you’re driving and I don’t have to wonder what you will do in the next few minutes.” She gave a sad smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

Her words tempered the joy he felt, but only at the edges. “It’s okay, Charlotte.” He smiled and rubbed his thumb across hers, feeling her nerves. “Take a breath. Relax. One day it’s not going to send nerves skittering around to say those words.”

“I still can’t sleep with you.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Do you trust me?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Trust me to understand this road we’re on. I love you, Charlotte. Over time we can go a very long way with small steps. Tonight is going to be like last night, tomorrow night will be the same. But you can give some thought to kissing me good-night. Why don’t we start there?”

“I don’t know where the triggers are going to be.”

“You don’t need to be afraid to find them. We both know they are there. We’ll deal with them together when they appear.” He looked over. “Relax. Life just got less complicated, not more.”

“I’m afraid it’s done the opposite.”

Bryce smiled. “Trust me. You’ll see.”

Paul answered a call shortly after midnight, listened, leaned over and turned on the bedside light, reached for a pad of paper. “Thanks, John.” He hung up the phone.

Ann rested her chin on his shoulder.

“John has a name. Simon Legard. Possibly Seattle.”

“How much did it cost him to get that name?”

“Five million.”

“Bryce will consider it a bargain.”

B
ryce moved the phone toward the front of the desk. “Go ahead, John. You’re on speaker. Charlotte’s here.”

“He must have heard we were looking for him. He left Seattle in a hurry. My guess, we missed him by less than an hour. Fingerprints confirm we’ve got the right guy. The FBI will soon be running his photo on the national news, along with a hefty reward we’re putting up for information. I’d rather you didn’t watch it, Charlotte—you’ll hear directly from me when there’s something that is new.”

Bryce glanced over at her, curled up in her chair. “We’ll avoid the newscasts and wait for your call, John.”

“We assume he’s running under a different name, and odds are good he headed from here north into Canada. We’ll either have him within the next twenty-four hours or this could take another detour and take a few more days. He tried to burn the papers he didn’t take with him, but he was short on time. There will be emails and phones to trace and documents to work and people who know him as Legard—he won’t be able to run for long. They’re locking down accounts under the Simon Legard name, and even with other cash he can get to first and move, there’s going to be a trail.”

“You’ve put a name and face to him once, you’ll do it again,” Charlotte said confidently.

“I will,” John promised. “Hang in there, Charlotte. Bryce, I’ll give you a call when I have more. Expect an update in about three hours.”

“We’ll be here, John.”

Bryce hung up the phone, looked over at his wife.

She got to her feet and restlessly paced the room. “I think I’ll go for a walk. Come with me?”

“Sure.” Bryce picked up his phone and keys. “This is going to take a few days, I think. An hour head start is substantial when he already had a plan in place for running.”

“I’ve been waiting nineteen years. I can last a few more days.”

“You’re practically climbing the walls,” he said lightly, draping his arm around her shoulders.

“So it might be a kind of
wired
few days.”

Bryce laughed. “Come on, Mrs. Bishop. I might even be talked into buying some ice cream, so we can make this a longer walk than normal.”

“I’ll take every distraction I can get.”

Bryce bought her ice cream, and they perched on the empty bleachers of the high school football field to enjoy the cones.

“This was one of the things I missed most during those four years. A sunny day outside. Ice cream.”

Not sure if it was simply a comment or an opening to a conversation, Bryce elected to leave her remark alone for now. “What do you want to do when this is over?” he asked.

“Celebrate. A party at Cue’s maybe, or Falcons. Good food. Friends. Laughter. I may let you drag me home at two a.m.”

Bryce smiled, nodded. “I can put that together.”

She finished her ice cream and her smile faded. “I used to sit near a window in the house where I was held, look at the thin slice of the river I could see, and pray for a day in the future that would simply be one where I could wake up and go on about life and not have to care about who these men were or what their mood was going to be or what they would do when they wanted—” She abruptly stopped. “I’ve wanted this day for nineteen years. To wake up and not have to think about someone out there who could hurt me or my sister.”

Bryce grieved over that sliver of memory she had just offered. She needed to give him a hundred more of those slivers if the pain was going to fade. “It’s going to be over—in days, maybe weeks. It’s not going to take years now to get this finished.”

She looked over at him. “I’m scared to death that if I’m asked to see him in person, do a lineup, that I’m going to remember more. I feel at times like I’m living in two worlds.”

“You’re safe, Charlotte. Your mind is finally starting to accept the layers of what that means, to relax its grip on the past. Some of it you may have to remember in order to get closure.”

“I’m so afraid the memories will drag on for years.”

“You can’t heal to some kind of schedule; it happens a piece at a time and on its own timetable. Expect this to take as much time as it needs to take. I’ll listen, Charlotte. Whatever you want to share, whenever you want to talk, I’ll listen. I can do that much for you.”

“Thank you for that.”

He reached for her hand.

She sighed. “You’ve gotten the difficult side of this marriage.”

“That misses the fact that being part of your life is worth a great deal. I like that we’re married,” Bryce replied. “I like it a
lot. I can’t imagine life without you around. I’d like you to let go of the idea you have to get better on your own. We do this together.”

“And if five years from now I’m still where I am today?”

He smiled. “I will have enjoyed those five years with you. Baby steps, Charlotte. We’re building a very good marriage. Rushing forward to be somewhere by a certain date just topples what we’ve already built. You need to enjoy the process more. I like sunny days sharing ice cream with you.”

“I’m impatient.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a bad trait to have. You want to move forward. Just choose your steps and risks carefully and see what the terrain is like. I promise to catch you if you fall. I think the next twenty years are going to be a good journey. I just think you need more time than you’re giving yourself. You don’t have something to prove. You’re a good wife.”

“I am?”

He laughed. “Yes, you are. You are so hard on yourself.” He tugged her hand. “Come on, let’s walk. It’s a beautiful day and I want to enjoy more of it with you.”

“Go ahead, John, we’re both here.” Bryce set the phone on speaker and placed it on the kitchen counter.

“This is going to take a few days,” John said. “We know he headed east out of Seattle, but we lost the trail about a hundred miles out. I don’t think he’s going to hunker down quickly. I think he’s going to run fast and far, then stop and burrow in somewhere under a new name.

“The FBI has his friends from the California days well covered, and they’re working the ones who knew him as Simon Legard in Seattle. Paul’s going to focus in on his family’s ties in Chicago. I’m going to spend a few days here to see if I can find a source
for his new name. If I can’t find it in a few days, I’ll head back. Christopher is going to need ready cash to keep running. He’ll make contact with his old life somewhere. I’m betting he goes back to his old friends in Chicago.”

Bryce looked at his wife. “It will be good to have you back here, John.”

“Charlotte, John and Ellie are here,” Bryce called.

Charlotte didn’t let John get more than two steps into the house. She reached him at nearly full speed. John caught her with a laugh and a very long hug.

“Thank you,” Charlotte whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

The man had spent the night flying from Seattle and looked in need of some sleep and a good meal. Bryce could understand his urgency to get back.

John finally set Charlotte in a chair, since she wouldn’t release her hold on him, knelt and studied her face. He smiled. “We know the name he’s running under now is Allen Crimson. It’s only a matter of time before they locate that name on a rental car, a bank account, or spot it at a border crossing. All it takes is one call from a hotel clerk who says ‘I checked in someone who looks like the guy you’re looking for’ for us to have him.”

John glanced over at Bryce. “Nice touch, by the way, to have his photo run at the top of every hour on all three networks with the reward for information and phone number posted.”

Bryce shrugged. “A lot of money can buy a lot of airtime.”

“He’s going to find it very difficult to hide.”

“Thank you for meeting me, Charlotte.”

“I appreciate you being willing to let this be a private
conversation, Paul. I’m meeting with Gage tomorrow, so I’m considering this discussion as practice for it.” Charlotte watched John take a seat on a bench by the fountain. She could feel her growing nerves threatening the calm she had struggled to achieve. “Would you mind if we walk while we talk?”

“No.” Paul matched his stride to hers as they took the path around the park. “Does Bryce know you’re here?”

“He thinks I’m shopping, which I will be when I leave here.”

Paul slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad to hear Gage accepted your offer and will leave Christopher out of the book.”

“Baby Connor is too big a story for him to pass up. Gage can mention he believes a third man was involved in my case without naming him. It will protect Tabitha—that’s my priority.”

“Christopher Cox is going to be found, and he’ll be tried on the California matters before I ultimately decide what to do about his involvement in your case and in the baby Connor case. Hopefully he gets life in prison and the question is moot.”

“Thank you for that.”

They walked in silence for a minute. “Charlotte, I’m going to ask the hardest of the questions first. Did they hurt anyone else? Is there another baby Connor out there? Another girl like you and Tabitha?”

“No. My memories are fragmented, but I have to think that if there was someone else, I’d remember with the same vivid clarity that I do baby Connor.”

“We’ve searched the records for cases from those four years and didn’t find something that looked like it might be an overlap.”

Charlotte felt some of her tension ease away. “Thanks again.”

“Two men grabbed you, a third man whispered to you. Was there anyone else you can remember being involved?”

“I only remember the three of them. But I can’t remember that photo. I don’t know for certain, Paul.”

“When we locate Christopher, do you want me to pursue the question with him? He would be in a position to know if anyone else was involved, and he’s the kind of man who would go for a deal in return for a lighter sentence.”

“I’d rather he never know he’s been connected to my case unless you have to bring it to trial.”

“Understood,” Paul said. “Christopher met the two cousins during a six-month window he spent while going to public school during the seventh grade. His parents separated, he went to live with his mom who didn’t have the money to continue a private school, he met the two cousins during the most turbulent six months of his life, and fit right in with them. His father had to do a lot of cleanup to keep an otherwise serious juvenile record from being built on Christopher. The parents got back together before the next school year, and he returned to the private school. But he was still seen with the two cousins at the Dublin Pub on enough occasions that people in the neighborhood considered him a local.”