Enigma (FBI Thriller #21)(90)

“I did only what I had to do.”

Connie said, her voice vibrating with anger, “And kidnapping Alex Moody, a one-day-old baby? How does he fit in with your grand philosophizing? Were you planning on using him as a test subject as well?”

He said nothing.

Sherlock said, “It’s past time we see your father now, Dr. Maddox. We can wait for the warrant to arrive, but I see little point. Do you?”





57




A woman yelled, “Lister! Help me!”

Sherlock looked up at the landing to see an older woman doing her best to support a man who was mumbling to himself, waving his arms, trying to pull free of her.

“Lister, B.B. woke up. He raised his head when he heard the shouting, and he actually turned his head to the bedroom door. He started struggling to get up.” She wrapped her arms around him and said in a voice filled with wonder. “He looked at me, Lister, and said, ‘Help me, Hannah.’ I think he’s trying to get to you.”

Lister seemed unable to move. He simply stared at the man and woman above him.

Sherlock said, “Is that your father, Dr. Maddox? Is that Dr. B. B. Maddox?”

Lister shouted over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs. “Yes, it’s my father! It’s worked, it’s worked! Hannah, it worked!”

B. B. Maddox managed to pull free of Hannah and stagger toward the stairs to his son, leaning heavily against the wall to keep him steady.

Lister couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His father looked confused, but there was cognizance in his eyes, awareness of what was around him. Lister’s heart leaped. It wasn’t that his father couldn’t walk, with help, thanks to Hannah’s incessant exercises, massages, and stretching, and to Cargill’s holding him up and walking with him every morning. But that flicker of light, that awareness, was it real?

Lister was so elated he was dizzy. He reached his father, pulled him against him. “Father? You’re here? You’re really here?” He stopped short when he heard his father’s once-dominating voice say slowly, as if finding words was difficult, “All these voices, who are these people?”

Lister caught his father as he sagged against him. “It’s all right, sir. You’re here, with me. These people don’t matter, ignore them.”

His father pulled back and stared down at him. He cocked his head, a gesture from long ago. “What’s happened to you, Lister? You look old.”

“I have aged, Father, fifteen years. Let me help you back upstairs, and I’ll tell you everything. Don’t worry about the agents, it’s a misunderstanding. I’ll clear it all up, don’t worry.”

B.B. said, “I’m hungry.”

Hannah said from behind him in her soothing voice, “I can get you some of your favorite poached salmon, B.B., how would that be?”

He looked back at her, frowned. “Hannah? Why do you look so old?” He looked down uncertainly at Sherlock and Connie and Savich, showed no recognition of Cargill. His mouth worked, but only a moan came out. He collapsed into his son’s arms. Savich let Cargill run up the stairs and the three of them lifted B. B. Maddox and carried him down the hall, his head resting on his son’s arms.

Savich, Sherlock, and Connie followed slowly. Connie paused a moment, to look into an antique gold-framed mirror. “I wonder if he’d be even more surprised to see himself now, if he looked.”

Savich said, “I’ll keep an eye on them, Sherlock, you and Connie go find Alex Moody.”

Sherlock and Connie walked down the long corridor, looking into guest rooms, a movie room, a gym. They heard a mewling sound and looked up to see a door open and a woman standing there, a baby in her arms.

Sherlock said, “We’re FBI. Is that Alex Moody?”

The woman looked back and forth between them, slowly nodded. “I’m very glad you’re here. I’m Ella Peters. Dr. Maddox is having me take care of the baby. He wanted me to hide him in the laundry, pretend I was a housekeeper, but I couldn’t do that. When I heard your voices, I knew help was here.”

Sherlock took the baby from the woman’s arms. She looked down at the perfect little face and blurry blue eyes looking back at her. He was sucking on his fingers. “Is he well?”

“Of course,” Ella said, patting his head. “He’s perfect. I’m a nurse.”

Sherlock smiled down at him. “It’s good to see you again, Alex. Your mama’s going to be very happy.”

Sherlock and Connie turned at the sound of Dr. Lister Maddox’s voice. “Take him back to the nursery, Ella! What are you doing?”

“His name is Alex, Dr. Maddox, and he’s not staying here, not with you. He belongs with his mother.”

Lister took a step forward, stopped, and sagged against the hallway wall. “You betray me, Ella? You betray my father?” Tears sheened his eyes. “He’s gone again, my father is gone.” He waved his hand toward Sherlock and the baby. “I suppose you will take him, like everything else.”

“Dr. Maddox, we have the baby now, and we have Ella and the others to tell us everything we need to know. And we’ll soon find Sylvie Vaughn. Isn’t it time for you to admit to us what you’ve done, for you to help us put some lives together? Who is the young man in the hospital? Where is his family?”