Cracks in the Sidewalk(94)

“How much?”

Frank answered, “Just shy of seven grand, but that includes expenses.”

~

That same afternoon Charles McDermott transferred another ten thousand dollars from his savings account to his checking account, figuring that he’d need extra cash to cover the cost of their plane tickets to Minnesota.

~

Frank Walsh’s report included five photographs. The first two showed Jeffrey loading the children into an unfamiliar minivan, and while the faces of David and Kimberly were easily distinguishable Christian’s snowsuit left little more than a nose visible. In the third, David was playing with classmates in the schoolyard. The fourth was of Jeffrey leaving the restaurant where he worked. The final photo was a street shot of Jeffrey and the woman identified as Kelsey Grigsby with all four children.

In page after page, Frank Walsh recounted Jeffrey’s new life. He no longer went by the name Caruthers, but now used his middle name, Thomas, as a surname, which had made him considerably more difficult to locate. He had little or no traceable assets other than the minivan purchased with proceeds from the sale of his house. His checking account had a minimal amount, and he always made cash deposits. He had rented a First Federal Bank safe deposit box, which Frank believed contained the cash from the sale of his house. And while he had not officially declared bankruptcy, he had left town owing substantial amounts to a number of creditors.

The woman living with Jeffrey called herself Kelsey Thomas but was Kelsey Grigsby. Her only known relative was her sister, Cyndi Grigsby, who lived in New Jersey and worked at Saint Barnabas Hospital.

The fourth child, a boy by the name of Robert, also used the Thomas surname, but on his birth certificate the father was listed as unknown.

David attended the Plymouth elementary school and was registered using the name Caruthers. All four children appeared in good health and adequately cared for.

At the end of the report Frank had included Jeffrey’s address and telephone number, and he had attached an invoice for $6,848.

“I take it this is satisfactory,” Walsh said.

Charlie assured him it was, then pulled out his checkbook.

~

When he was alone Charlie read through every word of the report, then he reread it again and again. Had he missed something? Passed over some small detail that might be important? He studied the pictures and the faces of his grandchildren looking for some telltale sign. Were they happy? Unhappy? Did they want to be found?

Charlie couldn’t decide whether the right way to approach the situation would be a phone call first to explain his intentions, or whether he should just appear on their doorstep. Approach it the wrong way, he knew, and things could get out of control, possibly turn ugly. With a mix of emotions swirling through his head Charlie folded the report, placed it back in its original envelope, and slid it beneath the stack of file folders in the second drawer of his desk. Before telling Claire he needed time to think.



Once Louise was gone, the McDermott household settled back into a regular routine. That was fine with Charlie, who kissed his wife goodbye then trotted off to the bank. But for Claire it meant a return to long days of loneliness, to thinking again about the things she’d lost, and searching for answers that didn’t come. Each morning she’d rise, dress, and think about how she might stretch a handful of errands into a full day’s work. The pantry was already overstocked with canned goods and paper products, the closets were filled with freshly dry-cleaned garments, and she’d purchased enough birthday cards to last a decade.

Too edgy to sit and read a book, too discontented to watch soap operas about people with fabricated problems, Claire eventually turned to baking. On Monday she made four dozen cinnamon rolls then delivered them to a number of the neighbors. On Tuesday she made cupcakes and filled the freezer with them so she’d have a supply on hand when her grandchildren returned. On Wednesday she took out the ingredients for sugar cookies when the doorbell interrupted her.

“Thank God you’re home!” A young woman charged through the door with a little girl sucking her thumb. “Chloe’s lame-brained babysitter didn’t show up again. It’s the third time this month!”

Claire stood there dumfounded as she tried to recall where and when they’d met.

Noticing the bewilderment, the woman stuck out her hand and said, “Rita, Rita Matthews. Liz and I were friends. I live over on Bethany, the yellow house two in from the corner.”

“Goodness yes,” Claire said. “At first I didn’t remember—”

“It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has.”

“I know this is last minute, Missus McDermott, but I’m desperate. Please, please, please tell me you can watch Chloe today.”

“Well, I was planning on doing some baking.”

“Chloe’s an angel and I promise she won’t be a bit of trouble, but if I miss work again I’m sure to be fired.”

“Just for today?”

Rita nodded. “Please?”

“I suppose I could—”

Rita thanked her profusely and darted out the door. The sad-eyed little girl with her carrot-colored curls had the look of a Raggedy Ann doll. Still sucking her thumb, she watched her mother disappear down the walkway.

Claire looked at the child. “Would you like a glass of milk?”

Chloe shook her head.