Page 20 of Unwanted Vows

I call the homeless shelters, and my contacts in the tent cities that still abound in the area. It is a lot like Pops Quinn’s “old coot” search. Local people notice things that strangers to an area do not. Mimi Quinn brings me a fresh cup of hot tea. I don’t want it, but she is doing her best to help, so I accept it.

The room takes on a call center atmosphere. Low voices, hushed phones, people with worried faces, scared faces, yet all intent on doing their part. Between calls to my contacts, I watch Dr. Lane. Before today, he didn’t know that he had a son. Yet he is taking part in the search. Each call to emergency rooms and reception desks is quiet, professional, calm. I feel hope rising as each one comes back “no”. At least my son is not in a hospital somewhere.

I go back to my own calls. After what seems like hundreds of calls, but were probably fewer than twenty since that is how many contacts outside family I have on my phone, I get an answer.

“Hello?” a rough female voice says.

“Grace,” I say, “this is Ms. Northernfield, from the clinic.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember you,” the woman says. “Did I forget an appointment again?”

“Not this time,” I reply. “But I am hoping you can help me. Some of the children have wandered off. I know you camp in the grove, and that Mimi and Pops have given you permission. Is there any chance you might have seen them?”

“I might have,” the woman says. “I saw a bunch of kids come down to the edge of the grove. Then this skinny little slick lookin’ guy comes along, says something to them, and they go with him.”

“Which way?” I ask. “Did you see where they went?”

“I didn’t follow them,” she says back. “But they went toward that new housing development. You know, the one that’s almost finished, but is still empty. Utilities aren’t turned on yet.”

“Ok,” I say. I don’t ask how she knows that the utilities are not on. Sometimes it is best not to know. “That helps. Any idea what time it was?”

The room around me has grown still and silent. I put her on speaker phone.

“Not sure,” she says. “But I know it was getting late, because it had cooled off a little, at least back in the shade. I was in a thick part of the orange grove, picking up windfalls to eat. Mrs. Quinn said I could.”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” I say. “Can you tell me anything more about the man who met the children?”

“Well,” she seems to pause to think, “I’d guess he was around five foot six or seven, not real tall for a guy. Skinny as a rail, dark brown hair. He had kind of a swarthy skin, like an Eye-talion.” She gave Italian a midwestern pronunciation. “I was close enough that I heard him say, “Come along. Your grandfather wants you. And they went.”

“Thanks, Grace,” I say. “That helps. Will you be in the grove tonight?”

“I dunno,” she says. “I might go up to Miz Hubbard’s. It’s kinda scary out here tonight. Men walkin’ around with dogs and stuff.”

“That’s our security team looking for the kids,” I say. “They won’t hurt you. But go to Mrs. Hubbard if it makes you feel better. Can you keep your phone on?”

“For you, Ms. Northernfield, you bet I can. Is it your boy that’s missing?” Her voice loses the rough edge, and sounds concerned.

“Yes,” I say. “One of them. There should be three.”

“That’s what I saw,” she says. “Let me know if those little lambs make it home alright.”

“I will,” I say. “Bye, now.”

“Someone saw them!” Andrew exclaims.

“Yes,” I say. “She’s a homeless woman who camps on Quinn property.”

“Reliable?” he asks.

I shrug. “Pretty much. For something like this, anyhow. I wouldn’t try to get her into a courtroom. She’d ghost us, quick as anything.”

Charles was already on the phone. “Austin?”

HIs phone squawks, then he says. “Yeah, at the edge of the orange grove. Went out toward the unfinished housing development.” He pauses to listen. “Yeah, that’s the one. Tried to purchase the fallow vineyard last year. Call us as soon as you know anything.”

We all gaze at Charles expectantly.

“Austin has the dogs on it,” he says. “He’s got Gidget. She can find Cece no matter where she is.”

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