Right? There was no way her sister and her brother-in-law would take Joey and leave, would they? Beth chided herself and dismissed the thought. Molly had a right to be distracted. Life probably felt like it was spinning out of control. Of course she wasn’t acting like herself. She was in shock.
Still, when the service ended and they finished up with yet another meeting on the Haiti work trip, Beth pulled Molly aside. “You’ve cleared this trip with Joey’s social worker, right? I mean, with the custody thing pending, I’m sure you’ll need her okay before you take him out of the country.”
For the briefest moment, Molly’s expression became one of sheer panic. Maybe it was Beth’s imagination, but she could’ve sworn Molly looked absolutely terrified at the idea of clearing this trip with the social worker. But just as quickly, she rebounded. The corners of her lips lifted in a gentle smile. “Of course, Beth. We’ve already gotten the okay.”
“Good.” Beth nodded. Relief filled her heart and soul. “Just wanted to make sure.”
All the way home, Beth allowed herself to feel relieved. She must’ve been loopy to think her sister would take Joey and flee the law, flee the United States. She was probably just distracted with finding an attorney or a politician who could help them. And someone would help them. They would get their miracle.
Beth believed that with every breath she took.
Allyson Bower hung up the phone and replayed the conversation in her mind. It was Tuesday afternoon, and she’d just spoken with Molly Campbell, calling with a special request. She and her husband wanted to take Joey on a work trip. They would go to Haiti with their church for five days, work on repairing an orphanage, and spend time with the children who lived there.
That would be okay, wouldn’t it?
As a state-certified social worker, Allyson was trained to recognize red flags. Children were her business, and children did a poor job of knowing when they were in trouble. That’s why in many cases they needed a state-appointed adult to help decide whether a situation was safe or not. A person working on their behalf.
Now this couple faced the loss of their only son after having him in their lives for nearly five years, and a week before they would lose custody permanently, they wanted permission to take the child out of the country?
Normally the answer would be an easy one.
No way.
Allyson couldn’t open herself up to that sort of potential trouble, that sort of scrutiny if things went awry and the Campbells disappeared. Once the adoptive parents were out of the country, even if they bought a house in Port-au-Prince and posted their names on the front door, it would be difficult to get them back to the States.
Still, for some reason, the idea appealed to Allyson. A last vacation, a last time to bond with Joey and show him what was important to them. Besides, maybe Joey would make friends with one of the orphans, and maybe the Campbells would go on to adopt that child. A Haitian child.
It was possible.
The trouble was, Allyson hadn’t seen any mention in the Campbells’ file about church or faith, about religion being important to them. She had asked Molly Campbell the name of the church, so now it was easy, really. She could do a little checking, and if their story held true—if they really were signed up with their church to go on a work trip—then Allyson would take the situation to the judge and recommend that permission be granted.
She didn’t need a judge’s order, not for this. At the time of the trip, the Campbells would have joint custody of Joey. Not until the Friday after the trip would they lose custody forever. If they wanted a farewell trip with their son, she wouldn’t deny it.
As long as it checked out.
Allyson found the number for the Campbells’ church. After being transferred to the secretary, she explained why she was calling, that she was a social worker and needed to verify the attendance of a few of their members.
The secretary was pleasant. “Go ahead.”
“Their names are Jack and Molly Campbell. They tell me they’ve been attending regularly as members.”
A series of clicking and tapping sounds filled the lines. “Just a minute, I’m checking the computer.” She paused. “Yes, here they are. Jack and Molly Campbell.”
“So they are members?”
“Let me see. Yes . . . their information chart says they’re members.”
“Which means they’ve been attending for how long?”
“Oh, well . . . that varies. We don’t have specific requirements for membership.” She thought for a few seconds. “But I’d say most people don’t become members until they’ve been going here for at least a year.”
Allyson smiled. Things were checking out. “Is there any record, any way of proving that the Campbells have been members for a year?”
“Well, we don’t take attendance. But we do watch the pattern of giving. Our members tend to be regular contributors, as well.”
“What about the Campbells? Have they been regular givers?”
“Let me scroll down here.” Another pause. “Yes . . . why, it certainly looks like it. The Campbells gave regular donations every month for the past, let’s see, thirteen months.”
Allyson quickly jotted notes on everything the secretary told her. Then she asked about the work trip.
“It’s a special time for our members. This particular trip is for families. It gives them a chance to make a special memory with their children while they’re helping out at one of the six orphanages we support in and around Port-au-Prince. We’ve put together teams of twelve to fifteen people for each orphanage.”
“What about supervision, someone from the church?”
“Yes, a church staff member will accompany each group.”
Allyson smiled and added that information to the piece of paper in front of her. “Very good. Thank you for your time.”
That afternoon she took the issue to the judge.
He read the file, looked over Allyson’s notes, and frowned. “A work trip to Haiti?”
“You have to understand, Your Honor”—she was already passionate about getting approval for the Campbells—“work trips to Haiti happen all the time. They’ll be with a group, and someone from the church will supervise.”
He gave her a wary look. “So close to the transfer of custody . . .”
“Your Honor, the population of Haiti is almost entirely black. If the Campbells tried to get away on foot in the middle of the night, they’d be picked up at the airport for sure. They’ll stand out, believe me.” She sighed and waved her hand at the clock. “I’d like to call the Campbells with permission before the end of the day. Your Honor, this is very important to them. I feel good about it.”
The judge tapped his finger on the paperwork in front of him. After another twenty seconds he took a slow breath. “Okay.” He shot her a stern look. “I know how you feel about this case, Ms. Bower. But the law is the law.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I’ll grant permission.” He narrowed his eyes. “But you’d better be right.”
She could hardly wait to call Molly Campbell. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
Fifteen minutes later she was back at her office and on the phone. “The judge granted you permission, Mrs. Campbell. Everything checked out.” She tried to keep her tone professional, tried to keep the sound of victory from her voice. She was supposed to be a voice of the state, not someone who took sides. “You’ve been granted permission to take Joey on the work trip, so long as you stick to the dates you’ve provided this department.”
“Thank you.” Molly’s relief poured from every syllable.
Allyson felt her throat choke up. “I hope you have a good time, Mrs. Campbell.”
“Yes. It’ll be very precious time for the three of us.”
When the conversation was over, Allyson hung up the phone. She was too street-smart not to have at least a little suspicion about the reason for the Campbells’ trip. But she’d fought hard for the approval because of one sin
gle image: Wendy Porter’s heavily made-up cheek. Rip Porter was being abusive again, and if she suspected one of the couples in this situation to be lying, no question she suspected the Porters first. Besides, she’d done her part by checking out Molly Campbell’s story.
Anything else was out of her hands.
Chapter Twenty
Jack had promised Molly he’d take care of the finances, and so far he was making good on his promise. The church thing had been nothing short of brilliant.
Their first plan was to keep the trip a secret from the social worker. It wasn’t anyone’s business if they wanted to take Joey on a work trip. But when Beth brought it up to Molly at church last Sunday, they had to revert to their second plan: calling Allyson Bower and asking permission. Before they could do that, they had to be sure to cover their trail. If they told the social worker they were members at Bethel Bible Church, then they had to be able to prove as much.
Thankfully, the church had virtually no requirements for members, and with thousands attending services every weekend, they had no real way to determine the actual attendance of any one member. Except by tracking whatever money people gave. That Sunday, after Molly’s conversation with Beth, Jack went home and wrote a series of checks, each for two hundred dollars, and each dated the first of the month back some thirteen months. He put each check in an envelope, sealed it, and wrote the month on the front. Then he put all the envelopes in a larger manila envelope and hurried the package back to church.
Services were still going on—the last one had just started. He went to the church bookstore and explained that it was rather urgent, that he needed to see the church secretary. She wasn’t there, he was told. Then he explained that he had checks to turn over, and in no time the bookstore manager found someone who worked at the church office.
A college intern, as it turned out.
Jack saw how young she was, and he had to work to contain his excitement. “We’ve made a mistake, and I feel terrible about it,” he told the young woman. She didn’t look a day over twenty. He poured on the charm. “More than a year ago, my wife and I made a decision to give regularly—a set amount each month.” He held up the envelope. “We wrote out the checks and placed them in here. And wouldn’t you know it?” He made a silly face. “I thought she was turning them in each month, and she thought I was.”
“I see.” The girl looked completely baffled. “Why don’t you drop them in the collection box at the back of the church? Anyone could make a mistake.”
“Well, you see, it isn’t that easy.” He grimaced and looked over his shoulder. “My wife’s mortified about this. She thinks people will see us as heathens for not giving all those months.” He pointed to himself. “It’s my fault, so I told her I’d make it right.”
The girl shook her head and made a face. “Sir, how can I help?”
“If you could promise me you’ll take these checks and enter them into your system by date, I’d be forever grateful.” He gave her his famous smile, the one that had earned him sales bonuses every year since he’d been out of college. “What we want is for the record to show our intentions. That we planned to give this set amount every month. You understand, right? Rather than adding up all the checks and putting it in as one big donation in our file.”
“For tax purposes, you mean?” She looked nervous. “We can’t change records for tax purposes, I know that.”
He shook his head and waved his hand. “No, no. Nothing about taxes.” He grinned again. “This is July, ma’am. All I want is for my wife to feel good about our giving statement. You know, when it comes in the mail at the end of the year. I actually want it to be less, because half that money should’ve been given last year. See?”
“So you don’t want a statement for last year? Even though some of the entries will be dated for last year?”
“That’s right. Last year’s taxes are over and done with. I’m not looking for a deduction, just a way to keep our heads high here at Bethel Bible.”
She still seemed puzzled. “So you mean, just enter them by the date on each check?”
“Exactly.”
Her frown deepened. “But if I do that, you won’t get tax credit for the ones dated last calendar year.”
“I know that.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “We’re not concerned with the tax break, ma’am. Seriously. This is about making my wife happy.”
Those seemed to be the magic words. She smiled and nodded. “I wish more people were like you. We’ll show it as one large donation for the church’s budget. But on your records I guess we could enter each check by its date. I don’t see why not.”
“Thanks.” He did his best to sound humble. “Do you think you could see that it gets done right away? My wife’s worried about setting foot in church until it’s taken care of.”
“Tell you what.” The girl smiled and checked the clock on the wall. “I’ll do it right now. I have access to the computer.” She gave Jack a knowing look. “But please tell your wife that no one would’ve looked down on her for not giving. Lots of people don’t give. This is a church, not a club. Besides, only a few people ever even see those records.” She took the envelope from him. “Just so you know.”
“Thank you.” Jack celebrated silently as he watched her go. One more step taken care of.
Now the memory of that day faded. Jack wasn’t sure if Allyson Bower had asked the church secretary to check their giving record. But he was certain the social worker called to verify their membership. She said as much yesterday when she talked to Molly and passed on the judge’s approval for the trip. The decision was based in part, she said, on the fact that her information about the church membership and the details of the trip to Haiti all checked out.
So far so good.
Now Jack was at the office of Paul Kerkar, one of the sharpest, most brilliant Realtors he knew. Paul dealt with high-end homes and commercial property. He had sold Jack and Molly their current home, and every now and then he called with investment opportunities.
This time Jack called him. “Look, I’ve come into some cash.”
Music to Paul’s ears. His tone was immediately cheerful. “How much cash?”
“More than a million, maybe a million and a half.” He didn’t skip a beat. “Molly and I talked about it, and we’d like to buy something commercial, something in old downtown West Palm Beach—the area where the renovation is taking place.”
Jack heard the sound of buttons being pressed. Paul always had a calculator with him. “Okay, so you’re looking for a property in the four-million to six-million range, is that right?”
“With 25 percent down, yes.”
“That’s how we’ll work it. Twenty-five is minimum for commercial property, but with your excellent credit, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Jack smiled. “I didn’t think so.”
Paul called him back an hour later with three possibilities. Jack took the day off from work, met Paul at his office, and toured all three. By the end of the day he was ready to make an offer on a medical office building, one that had a higher-than-usual vacancy rate, but was a better price per square foot than anything else downtown.
“This property has great potential,” Paul kept saying. Potential was his favorite word. “The investment potential here is unmatched.”
Jack was convinced. He called Molly and asked her to join them at Paul’s office, where they spent nearly an hour going over the numbers and signing the offer. Jack wrote a check for ten thousand dollars earnest money. Before the end of the workday, he placed a call to his mortgage broker.
“How’re my loans looking?”
“Great.” The man chuckled. “It’s not every day I have a client walk in and request an equity loan for more than a million dollars.” Another chuckle. “Let me tell you how it’s coming together.”
The loan officer explained that he was drawing equity from each of the Campbells’ three rental houses, still leaving at least 30 percent equity in each. “That??
?s a safe cushion.”
“Right.” Jack was at his desk, the one in their home office. He tapped a pencil on a pad of paper. Bottom line, buddy. That’s what I need here—the bottom line. “So what’s the total you can get me on the rentals?”
“Just under a million.” Pages shuffled in the background. “Here it is, the mid-nine hundreds. That’s the best I can do.”
“Good.” He tapped faster. “What about our existing home?”
“The existing home . . .” More turning pages. “A comfortable amount takes us into the high four hundreds.”
“More than four hundred thousand?” A thrill surged through Jack’s veins. “That’s higher than we thought.”
“The appraisal came back high.” The broker sounded proud of himself. “Property values are skyrocketing, Jack. It’s a good time to be in real estate.”
“I guess.”
“Uh, Jack . . .” The man’s tone changed. “You mind me asking what you need all this cash for?”
“I thought I told you.”
“No . . .” The man let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I mean, it’s none of my business. But one-and-a-half million? You and Molly starting a new business or what?”
Casual, Jack . . . Keep it casual. “Commercial real estate. Found the perfect medical office building downtown, the area they’re renovating.”
“Really?” The man sounded impressed. “It’s hard to find anything down there.”
“I have connections.” Jack chuckled. “It’ll be a money-maker right off the bat.”
“Great.” He hesitated. “And by the looks of it, your income on the rentals will take care of your payment on the equity loan.”
“Exactly.” Jack leaned back in his chair and set the pencil down on the desk. “It’s a win-win for everyone.” He didn’t want to sound anxious. “When can we expect funds from these loans?”
“We should sign papers in a week. Funds can be issued within a few days after that.”
“Perfect.”
They chatted for a few minutes more, and then the conversation ended. Jack could hardly believe it had all gone so well. He needed the real estate piece. Because if the social worker or the judge found out there were 1.4 million dollars sitting in the Campbells’ savings account, they might be concerned, at least enough to watch them or deny them permission to leave the country.