Easter Quillby
CHAPTER 32
When I saw Wade again he was standing just outside the tunnel at the top of the stairs leading down to our seats. I figure he’d stopped walking toward us when he saw the man sitting beside me. Even if Wade didn’t know who Brady was he probably knew exactly why he was there. Something must’ve told him that it was all over, that somebody’d found us and we’d be going back to North Carolina, back to Gastonia, and after that, who knew where.
I don’t know how long he’d been standing there when I turned around and saw him, but his eyes were red like he’d either been crying or was fixing to. He waved at me, and I waved back, and that was it-he was gone. I waited a few more minutes-until the bottom of the second inning when the Cardinals were up to bat-before I told Brady that I didn’t think Wade was coming back. He asked me if I was sure, told me we could wait just a little bit longer, but I knew there wasn’t any use. I was ready to let whatever was going to happen just go ahead and happen.
Brady Weller
CHAPTER 33
Gastonia had exploded by the time I brought Easter and Ruby back to town on Tuesday afternoon, a full week after they’d gone missing. The armored car heist was all over the news again, and so was Tommy Broughton’s mug shot. It wasn’t just the local news covering the story; cable news was back in town too, and CNN and the morning programs had live feeds going around the clock showing agents up at the house on Calder Mountain, tossing chunks of drywall out the doors of the basement and carrying out black trash bags that I knew were slam full of millions of dollars. The only thing they couldn’t find was the missing driver of that armored car. He could’ve spent the past six months weighted down at the bottom of the Catawba River, or he could’ve been relaxing on a beach somewhere in Mexico, far away from Tommy Broughton and the mess he’d gotten himself into. But I knew Broughton would eventually cough him up; he wasn’t smart enough or hard enough to keep that kind of secret.
Some of his money was found with Robert Pruitt in St. Louis on Monday. They’d found a gun on him too, but that wasn’t what had bothered me: it was the picture of Easter he’d had folded up in his pocket that kept running through my mind. I’d been right in thinking it wouldn’t be too long before they connected him to the murder of Wade’s mother back in Charleston, and who knew what else they’d find once they started digging. He’d only been out of jail for a few months, but it looked like he’d made pretty good use of his time. And now he was back in jail, awaiting trial for murder. Who knows what he would’ve done if he’d been able to get his hands on those little girls.
Easter and Ruby were back under Miss Crawford’s care by Tuesday night, but their heads didn’t hit the pillow until I’d installed the Deluxe Delta 6000, which retails at $750 with a monthly subscription of $74.99. But of course there was no fee or subscription rate; it was all taken care of, courtesy of Safe-at-Home and my brother-in-law, Jim. The only hard part was showing Miss Crawford how to turn it off and on, but I wasn’t too worried about that because I knew that Easter and Ruby wouldn’t be there for long. Their disappearance had kicked their grandparents into overdrive, and once the girls were found, things started to move fast. It was only a matter of days before I was standing in their bedroom, broken-down cardboard boxes tucked under my arm, asking them what they wanted to take with them and what they wanted to leave behind for the other kids.
Once the dust settled, everybody and everything could easily be accounted for except for Wade Chesterfield.
And that’s when he called me.
“Do you still have my girls?” he asked. It was a few minutes before nine on Thursday morning, and Wade Chesterfield’s voice was the last thing I’d been expecting to hear when I came into the office that morning. I looked at the caller ID. The area code was 704. He could’ve been calling me from next door, or he could’ve been anywhere else in this part of the state.
“Is this Wade?”
“Do you still have my girls?” he asked again.
“No,” I said. “I don’t have them. They’re back where you found them three weeks ago. And it’s best if you leave them right where they are.”
“I got your number from the woman there,” he said. “She told me to call you if I needed anything.”
“That was before all this happened, Wade,” I said. “There’s nothing I can do now.”
“Were you the one at the game?” he asked.
His question caught me off guard. I never imagined that he’d seen me. “Yes,” I said. “I was there.”
“Thank you for taking care of my girls,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “But that’s what I’m supposed to do. You just made it a little harder than it should be.” I waited for him to say something, but the line went quiet. “Wade? Are you still there?”
“Can you see them whenever you want?” he asked.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because I’ll pay you. Two hundred and fifty thousand if you let me get them back.”
The bells on the Baptist church a block from my office started tolling for 9 A.M., and before I could respond to Wade I heard those same bells coming through the phone. I jumped up and ran to the windows at the front of my office and looked up and down Franklin Avenue, but there were no pay phones that I could see.
“Hello?” Wade said.
“I’m here,” I said. I opened the front door and stepped out into the parking lot. “Listen, Wade, there’s no way I can-”
“Three hundred thousand dollars,” he said. In the parking lot, the bells and the traffic were so loud that I almost couldn’t hear him, and the connection began to fade and static took over the line. I stepped back toward the building and held my free hand over my ear. “I need them to be with me. Please, just think about it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Wait!” I said. The bells had stopped chiming, and I realized that I was yelling into the receiver. “Wait. If you’re in town, somewhere nearby, maybe we could meet up and talk.”
But he’d already hung up.
I went back inside and checked the caller ID and dialed the number. It rang for almost a minute before somebody picked up.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice said.
“May I speak to Wade?”
“Who?”
“Wade,” I said. “He just called me two minutes ago.”
“There’s nobody here,” she said. “This is a pay phone. I was just walking by, and it started ringing.”
“Thanks,” I said. I hung up and sat down at my desk, and then I leaned back in the chair, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Wade called me, I thought. Not the police, or the FBI, or the foster home. I was the only one who knew he was in town. I was the only one who knew what he was willing to do to get his daughters back.
When I opened my eyes they were already locked on the photo of Jessica and me that sat in the frame on my desk. I couldn’t help but think about what she’d said about nobody ever asking the kids what they want, and I pictured Easter’s face at the Cardinals game once she’d realized Wade wasn’t coming back for them. I couldn’t undo the things I hadn’t done right for Jessica, even though I’d spent years and years trying. Maybe I’d spent my life believing in second chances only because I was always the one who’d asked for them. But now I had to make the call about whether or not to give Wade Chesterfield a second chance, and I had twenty-four hours to decide what that call would be.
Easter Quillby
CHAPTER 34
Ever since me and Ruby had been back we hadn’t been allowed to go out to the playground after school with the rest of the kids, but on Monday Mrs. Davis came by the classroom where we’d spent the past few afternoons doing our homework and watching movies, and she asked us to line up with the rest of the kids. “Go ahead and bring your things with you,” she said. We put everything in our backpacks and followed her outside.