In the sewer? Morgan shuddered.
“After Grandpa called, I got scared and I thought of that place and I knew they’d never find me there and so I said I had to pee and I pulled back the rug only enough to get to the cover so it would fall back in place and I used a weight bar to open the metal cover and slid down inside and then closed the cover. But then—” Sammie’s voice broke “—then I knew I’d been really stupid because I didn’t have any food and I’d had to drop down in there and there was no way I could get back up to the lid. It was pitch-black. And…and then I remembered that I’d told Frank where I’d go and I knew that when he heard I was missing, he’d come bring me food. He came, but he didn’t bring food. He brought the police.”
Sammie could have died down in that sewer. If not for…
Morgan looked at Frank Whittier. “You found him?”
The older man bowed his head and then raised it again. “Sammie told me about the hideaway the day of your court hearing. We had our practice before he knew the result of the hearing and he mentioned that he had a place to hide if they took him away from you.”
Even then her son had known where he belonged.
“You saved his life.”
She didn’t dare look at Cal. He’d lied to her. But she’d had no faith in him, either. She’d listened to her father, the man who’d betrayed her, instead of to the man who’d actually cared for her.
“I just…” Frank was interrupted by the peal of Detective Martin’s cell phone.
“Martin… .Yes, Detective Miller… .Yes, I did… .Yes, I did… .Yes… .Well…” There was a long pause and total silence in the room as the detective listened. “Oh!”
Everyone in the room, with the exception of Sammie, who was still resting against Morgan, stared at the detective. And waited for her to speak after she hung up.
“That was Detective Ramsey Miller, from Comfort Cove, Massachusetts,” she told the room at large. “He’s currently looking into the Claire Sanderson abduction in connection with a current case.”
She turned then, and faced Frank Whittier. “That book your son wrote about the abduction that he sent to Miller last week…”
Cal Whittier wrote a book? And sent it to a detective?
He was helping the police when she’d basically accused him of harboring a criminal?
“He mentioned a meat delivery truck in the book. It wasn’t in any of the police reports. It was as normal to your son as the houses and trees, and he didn’t mention it any more than he mentioned the houses and trees he hid behind as he made his way back to your house instead of going to school that morning.”
“I remember the truck,” Frank said. “It stopped three doors down, every Wednesday morning. I don’t remember seeing it that morning.”
“It was there. Detective Miller has been working to track down the driver and they just brought him in this afternoon. He was interviewing the man when I called him earlier. The driver remembers seeing you, Frank,” Detective Martin said, more emotion in her voice than usual. She stopped, looked at the Lowens. “Would you like to do this in private?”
“Under the circumstances—” Frank nodded toward Sammie “—no, I would like everyone to hear what you have to say.”
Morgan glanced only at Frank. The man’s expression was stoic. She couldn’t read him. Did he want Sammie to hear firsthand that he’d done something wrong? Or was he that sure he was about to be exonerated?
“He said he saw Claire in your front yard when he first drove past on his way to make a delivery. He saw Cal, too. He was farther up the street. The little girl caught his attention because the front door was standing open and there didn’t appear to be anyone else around. He was so bothered by a little kid like that, outside all alone, that after he drove around the block to make another delivery he went back by the Sanderson home before continuing with his route. That was when you came out, put your briefcase on the front seat, opened the back door to drop your suit coat on the seat, which is what allowed him to see that the backseat was empty, and you drove off. Which is exactly what you told the police you did. There was no sign of the child, so he assumed you’d taken her back in the house and all was well. He was running late at that point and continued on his way.
“He didn’t know about the child going missing until a couple of days later. He was young then, and partied a lot, and was afraid that if he came forward they’d hold him as a suspect. He knew about the other delivery truck abductions. He said he couldn’t lose his whole life for a crime he didn’t commit just because he’d been trying to do a good thing. He figured they’d clear you when they didn’t find more evidence. Unfortunately our world is full of people who turn a blind eye rather than risk the consequences of getting involved. Apparently this guy at least had enough of a conscience to follow the case and know that you’d never been charged.”
“Frank didn’t do it,” Sammie whispered. Morgan heard her son. She saw Frank Whittier drop down to his knees, his hands on his head.
The older man shuddered and then, from his knees, glanced up at Detective Martin. “I’m exonerated?”
“Yes, sir, you are.” Martin’s eyes glistened with emotion.
And that was when Morgan saw Cal because he fell beside his father, hugging the older man.
Cal turned his head once. His wet eyes met Morgan’s.
And that was when she remembered that she’d signed away her rights to the boy she held.
She glanced toward her mother.
Her mother looked at her. And then at George. When Grace stood, Morgan knew that her mother was going over to her father’s side again. Some things in life she could count on.