Chapter 44
T he half-moon languished high in the sky when Dalia and Brody awoke to a car sneaking up the drive. The couple had dozed while sitting there on the swing, and the car alone at that hour alarmed them. But the headlights turning off before reaching the house had them at full attention.
Brody stood up, pulling on Dalia’s arm. “Go inside,” he ordered in a low voice. “Whoever this is, I’ll take care of it.”
“No, I’m not leaving you alone.” She stood up beside him.
“Dalia…”
“Wait. That’s Kenyon’s car.” She kept her voice down because Rose slept behind the open window above the porch.
Kenyon stopped, turned off the engine, and as quietly as possible got out, tamping the door closed. They went down to meet her there.
“Kenyon, are you okay?” Dalia asked in concern.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Kenyon glanced up at Rose’s open window, knowing from the night she slept in that room that there was a clear view outside, and they had to stay quiet.
“Listen,” she whispered, “I need to talk to you about something and I didn’t want to do it over the phone.
I’m so sorry it’s late. I thought I’d be ready to come out here hours ago, but everything took longer than I expected. ”
“Do you need to talk to Dalia alone?” Brody asked. “I can go.”
“Is this about your news story?” Dalia started putting pieces together.
“Yes. So, Brody, if it’s okay with Dalia, I don’t mind if you stay.”
“He can stay. He knows everything we know.”
The crunch of gravel underfoot caused them to turn to be met by Mamie in her bathrobe and slippers. “Come. Talk in the kitchen. Rose won’t hear from there. I’ll make coffee, unless anybody wants a beer. Or whiskey.”
“Okay. But I need to be quick. I don’t have much time,” Kenyon explained.
They followed Mamie inside and sat at the table while she put on the coffee pot and put out a plate of ginger snap cookies. “Do you need me to leave?” she asked.
“No, Mamie, this will involve you, too,” Kenyon insisted.
“You see, I’ve written an article about what we found in Amberton and about Nellie Franklin’s arrest for kidnapping and selling babies.
She might have even more charges by now.
I’ve been in touch with Sheriff Wi?niewski and Nellie’s been talking up a storm.
I’ve also talked to the editor of The Detroit Free Press and if I get my article to him by midnight – I have an hour and a half – if he likes it, it’ll be front page in tomorrow morning’s paper. And I’ll have a job.”
“Why, Kenyon, that’s marvelous,” Mamie said.
“Yes, but I can’t do it without everybody’s permission.
I mean, legally I don’t have to get permission because I’m reporting everything I witnessed.
But that’s the right thing to do. So far the sheriff, Inez, Saul, and my mom have said okay.
My mom hesitated but then decided that if my article runs in the five-thirty newspaper, she’ll report on it at six.
She’s already gone into the studio. She won’t even get any sleep. ”
Mamie put a cup of steaming coffee in front of her. “Oh, thanks, Mamie. This is just what I need.” Kenyon blew on it, knowing it was still too hot, so she went on with her story while Mamie doled out coffee for all.
“My mom wants me to tell you that she knows news and she knows this story is going to break with or without us. It’s better it be us. We can at least start it with some measure of control.”
Dalia sighed, giving in. “That’s true.”
“And this surprised me,” Kenyon continued, “but she wants to confess that she was one of the victims. Her producer is all psyched. This will be huge. At seven tomorrow night she’ll do an hour-long special on it.
She said her heart breaks for all those mothers like her who thought their babies died, and they have a right to know what happened.
The sheriff expects an onslaught of reporters from all over the country.
Mom says they’ll concentrate on the criminal part of the story.
Her special will focus on the mothers like her and the children.
Like you, Dalia. But she promises she will not say she knows where her lost child is.
She will never use your name unless you want to be part of the effort to help other victims. I know my mom.
She will ever break that promise. She wants to call you in the morning to reassure you.
” She paused to take a gulp of her coffee.
“Damn, Mamie, you even make the best coffee ever. Thanks.”
Mamie thanked her with a nod as she sipped her own brew.
Kenyon had more to say. “Mom insists that no one should be named unless they choose to do so – other mothers, the children. This is going to be very traumatic for a lot of people. There will be mothers who secretly had babies and thought they died, and they’ve never told anyone.
They might think it’ll ruin their lives if anyone finds out now.
They’ve suffered alone keeping that secret and thinking their baby died and they might suffer alone some more finding out they’re alive.
You don’t know my mom that well yet, but she’ll be all for some kind of support effort.
“As for her own baby, in the special tonight she’ll say she had a baby in that clinic and believes it was stolen and sold. She won’t say, at least not yet, that she knows for sure that her baby was sold. My article only talks about working with Dr. Crow.”
Dalia nodded. “Thank you. That’s best for now.”
“It surely is,” Mamie agreed. “But you know what else?” She tapped the table with a forefinger. “I think it’s perfect that you’re the one to break the story and your mom is following up. You know why?”
“Because Llayne is right to say this is going to break no matter what,” Brody noted. “Now that the FBI is there this is going to be national news. There isn’t any hiding it.”
“And Amberton is going to be swamped with reporters from all over,” Dalia added.
“Right,” Mamie said. “It’s better that someone we trust is controlling the breaking story. Someone with heart. Someone with soul. That’s you, Kenyon.”
“Oh, whew. What a relief.” Kenyon’s chest caved in with a whoosh of breath. “I was terrified you’d think I was taking advantage of our friendship – well, our family connection now. Our friendship means more to me than a job.”
Dalia couldn’t help but tease. “Are you sure? That’s your dream job.”
“Well, yeah. There is that. But the sheriff said basically everything you just said. The case is out of his hands now, so he and his meager staff are gearing up for a stampede of reporters. He’s giving a press conference this evening at six.
Well, I’d better get this article to the paper.
” Kenyon stood up and snatched two cookies for the road.
They all stood, and Brody said, “Kenyon, you can’t drive into that part of the city this time of night alone in the dark. I’ll take you.”
“I’m coming, too.” Dalia grabbed a napkin full of cookies, too, ready to go.
The three of them piled into the wide front seat of Brody’s truck and took off. On the way, Dalia and Brody told Kenyon their wedding plans and she absolutely insisted that Dalia wear her wedding dress.
“You must!” She trilled. “It’ll be beautiful on you. And Rose loves it. You’ll make her so happy. And it isn’t like I’m going to wear it to my nonexistent wedding.”
Dalia eventually demurred, ever so grateful for the offer.
In the city, they drove right past Babette’s Gentlemen’s Club. “Sorry,” Brody said. “This is the quickest way to the newspaper.”
Dalia squinted. “Oh my god, that damned flashing neon sign. My stomach always did a flip the minute it came into view.”
They gawked out the window as the obnoxious blinking red light hit them, smothering them in its depravity.
“I don’t actually remember it,” Kenyon confessed. “I was too drunk. But think about this: as horrible as that was for me…” Brody turned a corner and the club disappeared from view “…without Chad the Cad cheating on me, we never would have met.”
“That’s true. And I still might’ve looked for my birth mother but without your investigative skills, I wouldn’t have got anywhere.”
“Well, thank you Chad the Cad!” Brody declared.
The women looked at each other and shook their heads. “ Nooo thanks!” they chirped.
With the article delivered on time and the excitement of the day pressing in, Dalia and Kenyon dozed while Brody drove home. But he woke them up as they approached Farmdale.
“Girls, you have to see this.”
He’d pulled over and stopped. The women blinked sleepily to try to focus on the billboard on the side of the road.
There, in bold red paint, Chad’s giant advertisement had once again been graffitied.
Where it had said, “Chad Damon, your A-1 choice,” it now said, “Chad the Cad Demon, your Ass Hole choice.”
Kenyon’s titter broke into a full-blown wail of laughter. Catching her breath and pointing, she sputtered, “My brother Zach. His last mischievous act of a twelve-year-old boy before going away to the Air Force to become a man.”
Dalia cocked her head to study it. “I like it. Thank him for me.”
Brody said, “I’m just going to pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about so I don’t have to arrest anybody.”
He drove them back to the farm so they could all go home and get some sleep.