I gave up and opened the file I’d written about the adoptions, because that’s what I really wanted to do, regardless of the FBI’s involvement. In addition to Ingrid’s son, I found three more families who lived in Forest Forks and had a family member at Sunnyview Villages. What I wanted to know, just for me, was how the parents got the babies. Did they meet the couple that were putting the baby up for adoption before the baby was born? Did they just receive the baby at Tyler’s office, or did he bring the baby to them? Did his partner pretend to be the bio-dad? How did it work?
Google led me down dark and twisty paths to horrible stories about human trafficking and baby farms. Statistics from the DEA and Homeland Security made me wonder how bad human trafficking in Lexington or Cincinnatti could be.
One thing was certain, if the adoptive parents hadn’t met the mother, the chances of the baby being kidnapped seemed more likely. I could ask Ingrid about how her son and daughter-in-law first met their baby. It seemed like a safe question to ask. The first time they held their baby would’ve been a joyous moment, remembered and retold.
Photographed.
I opened Facebook and typed in Ingrid’s daughter-in-law’s name. I hoped I could scroll back three years and locate the baby announcement, but her privacy settings wouldn’t allow me to see any pictures. Weird, since I’d pulled them off Facebook a few days ago. I switched to the next family, Ann and Greg Hansen. They also changed their privacy settings and so had Libby and JJ Crane.
The back of my neck prickled and I felt like someone was watching me, but it was guilt. I’d started this investigation and now the adoptive families were reacting, protecting their family.
Maybe Ingrid wouldn’t tell me about the adoption. And maybe it wasn’t Tyler’s killer who tampered with my brakes. Maybe it was a very angry parent, scared and frustrated and punishing me for asking too many questions. Everyone at church had been so nice this morning, but would they still be friendly if parents lost their adopted children?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Work on Monday started off just fine. Breakfasts were served, physical therapies administered, medications given, and then Jenny McGuffin accused the CNA of poisoning her.
“Oh good,” Marabel said in a flat tone and hung up the phone. “I wondered what the next emergency would be. I’m so glad it’s not Mrs. Almond’s diverticulitis. Come on, Jenny likes you.”
We hustled down the hall to Jenny’s room. I texted Ray. Your mom accused her CNA of poisoning her.
He replied, What’s a CNA?
Certified Nursing Assistant. You know, the person who gets your mom to eat.
He answered, On my way.
It didn’t take long for me to calm Jenny, and she was right about her lunch smelling funny, but I think that had to do with the cafeteria using a new detergent rather than poison. I read through her chart and realized she had been diagnosed with a urinary tract infection which was most likely causing her confusion and dementia to be worse.
Ray arrived with a bag of Dewey Dogs and a large soda and gave me a chin nod as he sat down next to his mom. “Ma, I brought you lunch, okay?” He turned the TV to the murder channel.
“Thank you. You look so handsome with your hair cut. When will you shave that growth on your chin?” She pulled a Dewey Dog out of the bag and bit into it.
“I like the growth. It keeps my chin warm,” Ray answered.
Jenny focused on the TV, seeming to have forgotten all about the possible poisoning.
I returned to the nurses’ station when Jenny snapped, “Amateur! Cover the body with lye.” It was good to have her back.
Vi raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
“Sure. Jenny has a UTI and it’s making her confusion worse.”
“Poor thing.” Vi frowned. “Charlie, doesn’t it bother Joe that you spend so much time with Ray?” Vi’s honest face seemed sincerely concerned for me.
And it made me angry. It made the ringing in my ears become deafening. “No, because Ray’s a family friend. In fact, Joe asked Ray to drive me home until Oscar’s murderer is caught.” I leaned closer. “You realize someone tried to kill me Friday, right? And Ray is willing to guard me until Joe gets off work. So, in between trying to figure out a good long-term solution for his mother who is falling deeper into dementia, and finding work in a small town where everyone still thinks of him as the eighteen-year-old kid he was when he left, he’s also putting his life on the line by protecting me from someone who has killed Oscar, Tyler, and cut my brake lines.” I added my disapproving mom-glare. “He’s like a brother to me and Joe. He’s a Sanders now. If that’s a problem for you, then I suggest you change shifts.”
Vi’s face paled and she grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t think… It’s just that he’s, he was… I mean the past is complicated. And when he first got to town he acted the same.”
I remembered Ray’s Raychology about either wanting to feel attractive or wanting to sleep with him. Had Ray’s hook-up with her niece damaged Vi’s body-image confidence? She was beautiful, but approaching forty. Things weren’t where they had been when she was eighteen, although with lycra, you’d never know it.
“I don’t know what he was like, and maybe that’s why it’s easier for me to like him. He’s been generous with his time, respectful, and kind to us. Maybe it would be better if you buried the past and thought of him as a patient’s family,” I said calmly.
She scowled, like the idea tasted bad in her mouth. “I suppose I can try.” She released my arm. “But we’re okay, right?”
“Yeah.” I gave her a quick
