"Susan," I said gently, "We want you to calm down and relax. You need to take care of your health for the moment, okay? No one is angry with you, do you understand?"
She nodded pathetically, totally grief-stricken about what had happened. I needed to get some questions answered before she drifted off.
"Okay," I said, steadfast in my mission. "Can you please tell me what happened to Preston?"
"Nurse Bradley took her," she choked out between tears. "During the interview, Preston started fussing to eat. I asked Nurse Bradley if she would hold her while I went to the kitchen and warmed up a bottle of your breast milk. She was more than happy to do so," she said.
"I heard the baby stop fussing while I was out in the kitchen. I went ahead and finished heating up her bottle."
Susan was sobbing now, totally absorbed in her tears and guilt. I could see that.
"What happened?" I prodded as Trey stood by in a zombie-like trance.
"Well, when I came out with Preston's bottle, I saw that Nurse Bradley was sitting on the couch with her. She had her blouse unbuttoned and she was . . ."
Susan stopped to sob louder now, clearly disoriented by what she had observed. I needed her to finish.
"What Susan?" I pressed, my voice louder and more demanding than I had intended.
"She was nursing the baby," she wailed. "Preston was latched onto her breast, nursing from her!"
"What the fuck?" I said loudly.
Susan starting wailing louder; Trey had turned into a statue again.
"Susan…Susan," I said firmly. "What happened then?"
I could tell that she was starting to feel the effects of whatever drug she had been given.
"I asked her what the hell she thought she was doing. She said she had lost a baby but kept pumping her breasts. She said she had been donating her breast milk to the Fulton County Milk Bank. I told her she needed to leave and I went to take Preston from her. She kicked me with her foot and I landed on the floor. She laid Preston on the couch, grabbed the poker from the fireplace and bashed me on the head with it. The next thing that I remember is being here."
She continued sobbing; my heart went out to her. Trey leaned down, kissing her and stroking her hair. He told her that everything would be okay.
I had one more question that I desperately needed to ask Susan before she sank into oblivion.
"Susan," I said loudly. "I thought Nurse Bradley had retired from the hospital. How could it be that she was still of child-bearing age?"
Susan looked me dead in the eye when she answered.
"Tylar, there was no way that lady was any older than forty years old I swear. I don't know what age it is that nurses can retire, but grey wig and all, I could tell she wasn't more than late thirties or very early forties."
"Wig?" I asked.
It was too late. Susan had drifted off to sleep. I had no further description from her other than she knew that the faux Nurse Bradley had been wearing a grey wig and that she in no way looked liked she was old enough to have been retired after twenty years spent as a nurse.
I did recall that the resume at our apartment for this Sheila Bradley had said her nursing years had been spent at North Bay hospital where I had delivered Preston. We needed to get there.
Trey was still in shock. He was on the phone with one of his partners letting them know the situation. They assured Trey they would pull all strings possible with the authorities to get an Amber Alert issued. The problem was we had nothing to go on. Susan was not even up to talking to a sketch artist at the moment. We had no clue what the perp was driving, though I strongly suspected it was a newer model, white SUV. The same vehicle that had struck Jean.
The attending physician that had been treating Susan came in to let us know that they were admitting her overnight for observation of her head injury. Trey wanted to stay with her but he didn't want me to be alone at home. He was right. Seeing Preston's stuff and anything that had been a part of the struggle with Susan against my mother would be disturbing. I stayed with Susan while Trey made a couple more phone calls. He called Clive to let him know what had happened. Gina had returned to Atlanta the previous day. He called her to see if she would come and get me for the night. He let me know that she was on her way to pick me up and that I was to stay there until I heard from Trey in the morning. He had talked to Tristan and Nigel as well; Tristan was getting the first available flight to Atlanta. Trey needed his family's support right now. I was glad that he had a family that was supportive.
I didn't want to be away from Trey but I knew that both of us could not stay with his mother. Trey was constantly on his Blackberry with the police and state highway patrol. I knew that this wouldn't do any good. My mother if nothing else was good at duplicity and avoiding detection. What she had failed at was the realization of how much I loved my baby and that was her fatal mistake. I would bet the whore's life on it…
Once off of the phone, Trey cautioned me to say no more about my suspicions relative to my mother. I wasn't sure if it was because he thought me delusional but the reasoning he gave me sounded logical. He said that if the local authorities deemed this a "domestic incident" it would delay getting the FBI involved. Trey wanted every resource available to be involved in finding Preston. I would not hinder that in any way. Trey said we could not discount that this had been a kidnapping for ransom in which case, we wanted the assistance of the feds.
I knew my mother well enough to know that kidnapping for ransom was not her game. She didn't possess the international savvy it would take to leave the country and keep a low profile for the rest of her life. She didn't roll that way. Preston was valuable to her but for some other reason; something less dramatic but equally lucrative without the risk. She had made a grave mistake in underestimating the love that Trey and I both had for our baby girl. That is because my mother did not understand the concept of love. She would soon experience the wrath that results when a loved one is put at risk. She had crossed a very dangerous line this time.
CHAPTER 11
Once at Gina's she was all over me, weeping and sobbing, telling me that she and Ian were there for me in any way that I needed them. I was worried she would make herself sick over this. There was no need. Preston would be back with me shortly. I was sure of that. I needed Gina's help for the moment as this window of opportunity presented itself only briefly.
"Gina," I said sternly, "You need to get it together. I need your help."
She looked at me through tear stained eyes, puzzled at my calm demeanor. The truth was I was not calm. I was nowhere near calm but I knew what I needed to do and I knew that I had to act quickly before Trey became aware of what I was doing.
"I need you to take me to the airport tonight. I booked a flight to Indianapolis that leaves at 10:17 p.m. I need some clothes. I may be a couple of days."
"What the fuck are you talking about Tylar?" she all but screeched.
I motioned her to keep quiet so that I could explain.
"Listen Gina, I can tell right now that the local authorities are skeptical about Preston's disappearance. You should have heard the way they interrogated Trey at the hospital. Fuck this shit and their bureaucratic red tape. I know my mom is responsible for this. You are my best friend. I need your trust and your help. Do I have it?"
"Abso-fucking-tutely!" she said without pause. "Let me get you some clothes and a duffel bag. Do you need money?"
"No, I'm good with my credit cards. It's not like I'm running away. You can tell Trey where I've gone once he gets here tomorrow. I know where Daniel is living. I need to get a jump on this just in case he is still in touch with my mother. He must have some information that could possibly help."
"Let's get going then," she said without hesitation.
Once I landed in Indianapolis, I had to take a shuttle to a little town outside West Lafayette, Indiana where Daniel was living. I had gotten the address when I called his parents home earlier, pretending to be Abby Dunsmire from the reunion committee planning the 5-year class reunion from our high school.
His mom had been more than willing to spill all available information on Daniel, candy-coating it a bit. She said he had left college to pursue a career in agriculture. Translation: he worked on a farm. She said that he had been involved on a major R & D project at one of the primary employers of large heavy equipment in West Lafayette. Translation: factory worker. She explained that this had led him to pursue agriculture as he felt he could contribute more to that particular line of work.
I had booked a night at a Marriott Hotel close by. I planned on getting up as early as possible and finding Daniel's rural address as I knew he must be a farm worker. He certainly would not have had the funds to buy his own farm, unless my mother had invested my trust money in it which I highly doubted. It was more likely that my mother had been sponging off of him for the length of time she had been there.
I found the farm easily with the GPS on my rental car. I arrived there just after dawn before he went out to do whatever it is farmers do at the break of dawn. The farmhouse was small and dumpy. A couple of mixed breed dogs came running out onto the graveled driveway as my car pulled up to the house.
I noticed my old blue Jeep Cherokee Laredo parked by the side of the barn next to the house. My heart quickened. What if Mom was here? That meant that Preston was here as well; or that I was totally off-base in my assertion that my mother had taken the baby. I had to know one way or another.
If the abductor was not my mom then I guess I would be starting from scratch on this. I couldn't be wrong. My baby's quick return depended on me being right about this!
I walked up the short dirt path to the door. There was no doorbell so I pounded on the storm door with my fist several times. I could hear someone moving about inside. The curtain on the door moved a smidgeon and I heard a mumbled curse. He had better open the damn door. I was not averse to kicking the glass in if need be. I heard the lock turn and the door opened.
Daniel was standing there in a pair of grey sweat pants and a dirty tee shirt. His hair was in dire need of a trim, and it appeared he didn't shave very often these days. I wasn't sure that he recognized me at first as his expression was simply impassive.
"Daniel? It's me. It's Tylar," I said hesitantly not sure if he was even awake enough to comprehend what I had said.
"I know who the fuck you are. What is it you want?" he asked acidly.
(Where the hell did that come from? Shouldn't that be my line?)
"What I want is to know where my mother is," I commented just as acidly.
"More importantly, I want to know where the slut took my baby and what part you played in this so that I can make sure you are charged as an accessory."
He attempted to shut the door but my foot was planted firmly between it and the door jamb.
“You know Daniel; you can talk to me or you can talk to the authorities. What you don’t want to do though is deal with my husband who is likely finding out just about now where I am.”
He reluctantly opened the door allowing me to step inside the house. It smelled of whiskey and dirty clothes.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, rubbing his unshaven face and looking totally clueless.
"Look - asshole," I said plainly, "I didn't travel here to listen to your feign ignorance about my mom and what she has been up to these last few weeks…'
He cut me off abruptly either out of stupidity or ignorance because I was going nowhere until I had drained his mind of any information that might help me locate my mother.
"Get the hell out of here, Tylar. I don't know what the hell you are talking about and I don't fucking care. I don't want you or that slut that raised you in my house. Now get out. I will call the police if you'd like."
"Go ahead," I hissed, daring him to do just that.
"I want them here so that they can question a potential material witness at the very least, and a possible accessory to kidnapping."
I had his attention. I could see that now. He finally managed an expression and there was a hint of fear in it.
"Come on into the kitchen," he invited. "I need some fucking coffee."
I followed him through the closed in back porch that now looked as if it served as a utility room. There was an old washer and dryer in it, as well as a mound of dirty clothing piled right in front of it. The kitchen opened up right beyond the utility room. I saw a stack of dirty dishes on the counter and in the sink. A ' Mr. Coffee' had some coffee pouring into the pot.
Daniel rinsed out two dirty coffee mugs, pouring himself one and starting to pour one for me.