“Me? Oh, that one,” she said flicking her finger in the direction she was heading, pointing somewhere in the middle of the street. “I’ll see you around.”
“See you.” He winked.
Not if I see you first.
She hurried away with Harley tucked in her armpit.
Ugh.
Old guy with just enough money to think he had a chance with a much younger woman. Florida was full of them, though not so much in Charlotte’s neighborhood. The modest retirement incomes of the Pineapple Port cruisers kept them in check with the younger ladies. When it came to women their own age, all they had to do was sit back and wait for a hungry widow to find them. The lopsided numbers of men to women placed the men firmly in the catbird seats in Pineapple Port.
Once back in her car, Charlotte set down the dog and tapped her finger against her steering wheel.
That was stupid.
She shouldn’t have talked to the man. It would be twice as hard to remain undetected now there was someone on the block who could recognize her. Certainly, if he spotted her, he’d wonder what she was doing sitting in her car staring at her neighbor’s house.
A careless move, but she did get a juicy tidbit of information out of Creepy McNeighbor. The replacement baby was blind. The police hadn’t released that fact to the press. Someone tried to swap a blind baby for another. That certainly gave her ‘defective baby exchange’ theory some credence.
Unbelievable.
She’d stopped being shocked by the news years ago, but baby swapping was even weirder than most stories. If there was one thing the Internet had done, besides making case research a lot easier, it was make Charlotte realize how strange people could be. She felt as if she could make up any story, no matter how outrageous, and someone out there, somewhere, had already done it or, at least, thought about doing it.
Terrifying.
Charlotte stared at Shana and Carl Bennett’s house. She couldn’t see much, thanks to a large hedge wall separating the house from the street. Feeling something wet flick against her forearm, she glanced at Harley. The dog had found a spot curled on the passenger seat, lazily licking the hand Charlotte had resting on the center handbrake. Harley seemed tired. The short walk had probably felt like a marathon to little Peewee Muffin-head.
Charlotte peered in her side mirror and watched the neighbor mow his lawn. She didn’t want to continue walking to the opposite end of the block until he went inside. She didn’t want to give him any more reason to suspect her of anything.
Instead, she mulled the case. The blind baby information had opened a few more possibilities.
Would someone be willing to trade their own child if it was blind?
The idea was almost unspeakable, but again, she’d read about worse things. It was completely possible someone was that selfish.
But if that’s what happened…How do you find the parents of a blind baby?
Maybe those parents hadn’t even told anyone their child was blind. If they had, and then suddenly had a child who could see, they’d have a lot of explaining to do. If they told their friends and family a miracle happened, the news could end up online. Who hears about a blind baby with restored vision and doesn’t post it on Facebook? People would be eager to believe such a happy blessing had occurred. People always believed what they wanted to believe. And people loved to share miracles.
But she couldn’t sit back and hope the case would be solved by Facebook posts.
The missing child was six months old, so the blind baby was near the same age. Did the parents diagnose the blind child’s condition themselves? How do you know a six-month child is blind? He didn’t say. It’s not like they tossed him a baseball and he didn’t try to catch it—
Charlotte gasped.
A doctor.
Chances were good somewhere there was a doctor who’d told those parents their baby was blind. Even if they’d suspected something was wrong, they would have taken the baby to a doctor to confirm those suspicions.
This was a thread that could be followed. The police needed to find a doctor who’d recently diagnosed a blind baby.
Though, that task might be harder than it sounded. There was no guarantee the baby was local—that might have been the whole point. The parents might have driven or flown from anywhere to enact their kidnapping plan.
But probably not.
This kidnapping didn’t seem terribly planned.
The woman who perpetrated the crime had her own baby with her when she stole Shana’s—that implied a spur of the moment idea. It had been nothing but luck that she’d parked out of the view of the parking lot cameras.
Probably.
Charlotte caught a movement from the corner of her eye and turned to face the Bennetts’ house. She watched two police officers push through the gate. She perked, but as fast as her spine straightened, it curved back down.
Oh no.
What am I doing? I’m supposed to be looking for Siofra.
She realized she wanted to solve the case. But, if she did, Siofra wouldn’t have to and they might miss their chance to spot her.
Hm.
But it wouldn’t be right of her not to help.
Would it?
Maybe she could just help the police a little.
Scooping up Harley, she left the car and walked to the officers standing on the sidewalk outside the courtyard, one male and one female. She moved quickly to avoid giving herself time to rethink her plan.
“Excuse me,” she said.
Two heads turned towards her.
“Yes?” asked the man.
“I’ve had an idea about the case.”
The female officer laughed. “Thanks, but
