Chapter 22
"Here, Zach, take this to Officer Castillo." Kara handed the boy a mug of hot tea. "Careful!"
She watched him carry the mug slowly, deliberately, from the kitchen to the front door, where Officer Castillo stood on the porch, watching the street, his body silhouetted against the bright, early afternoon sky. The recent rain had finally drifted eastward over the Cascade Mountains, leaving a glorious autumn day behind it.
She wandered into the entryway after Zach and pretended to arrange the photographs on the table there. The glass that covered the picture of young Craig in his baseball uniform had been replaced by Lia yesterday. By the time the Flemings had come home from the hospital the afternoon after Dr. Lerwick's attack, the police were done there and the dear woman, with her daughters' help, had reset the photos and cleaned up all the blood in the entryway and the bathroom. The photo had been returned to its proper position, just where it had stood the night when Zach had arrived. Had come home, Kara admitted. What a strange realization, that he really had been coming home after all.
The officer received the mug from Zach with a grateful smile. "Gracias, amigo," he said.
"De nada," Zach replied smoothly.
The officer laughed, and they began to chat together in Spanish quite beyond what Kara could make sense of.
Exerting extra willpower, Kara pulled her eyes from the boy for the moment, returned to the kitchen, and scooped up the gardening book she had set aside on the counter. There was no need for her to stand there and watch him talk with Officer Castillo. With officers rotating every four hours around the clock, guarding the house until Dr. Lerwick was found, the boy was as safe on the porch as he could be anywhere. All the same, she found a place to sit where she could keep him in sight.
This boy… Even knowing he was safe, she felt an instinct to protect him. Already, after these few months, she loved watching him grow; it made her feel like at least she and Craig were doing something right, even if they didn't really know what they were doing. He knew more, could do so much more than when he had first come to them. He had proved as much this week—using the phone, riding the bus, leaving a trail. In small but noticeable ways, he had grown. Somehow, she and Craig were managing to help him to—as Craig liked to put it—live. What better could novice parents do?
Craig sat at as comfortable an angle as he could manage on the couch, reading his latest novel. His right arm, hanging tenderly in a sling, still hurt him significantly, and the bullet had broken two of his ribs on impact; medication was helping with the pain, a little. Fortunately, the bullet had cut a clean hole through the muscle of the arm, leaving the bone untouched, and had not quite penetrated the ribs; another centimeter, the surgeon had said, and his prognosis might not have been so good. He had been lucky.
That didn't keep him from making the most of his injuries, though. He sensed Kara's eyes on him and glanced up. "Hey beautiful," he teased, "could you get me some tea, too?"
"Get your own tea, bozo," she scoffed at him. His legs and other arm still worked just fine. "What am I, your waitress?" But he grinned at her display of feigned annoyance, and with an unconvincing roll of her eyes she went to get him some tea.
It had been a day and a half since Dr. Lerwick's appearance in their home. At the hospital, a rapid but delicate surgery had removed the bullet, and another had mended the torn muscles in Craig's arm. Zach, meanwhile, had received stitches to close up the gash in his head. Craig's doctor had insisted on keeping Craig under observation that night and the next morning, so the family had slept in his hospital room, Craig on his own bed and Kara on the couch, snuggled up with Zach in her arms; she had refused to let him go and, unusual for him, he had made no effort to seek release.
They had returned home the following afternoon to find Lia and the girls just leaving, then had swallowed a quick bite of food and slipped straight back to bed. Knowing one of Seattle's finest was posted outside had permitted them some respite. Zach, afraid to be left alone in his own room, had cuddled between them on their queen-sized bed, which had suited Craig and Kara just fine; they wanted him where they could reach him. Even when Kara had made him shower this morning, he had kept the bathroom door propped part-way open for their mutual reassurance. Granted, it didn't close properly anymore anyway since its encounter with Dr. Lerwick's shoulder.
For his part, Zach had slept most of that day and all last night, completely missing an impromptu press conference in the front yard—Ben's and Agent Nyler’s solution to a deluge of interview requests that had flooded Craig and Kara as word of Zach's rescue got out. Craig and Kara had decided not to reveal the reason for his kidnapping—not yet—and the FBI, at Nyler's request, had kept it quiet, too. Someday, and probably soon, they would need to let the world know about Zach's origin, and there would be more press interviews, and visits by doctors and medical researchers. But not just yet—not until Dr. Lerwick was caught and Zach was ready, and Kara and Craig, as well.
Ben, speaking to the world on their behalf, had been wonderful, requesting privacy and prayers while also answering every question graciously. He had been so patient with the reporters. Craig and Kara had each spoken to the news cameras too, and Agent Nyler had given the official account of Zach’s kidnapping and escape. But it had been Marissa, surprisingly, who had stolen the show, standing with her dad and giving voice to the family's relief at having Zach home safely. The minute Zach awakened the following morning and finally emerged from Craig and Kara's room, Marissa, having waited restlessly for him since breakfast, had nearly knocked him over in her elation.
Well-wishers had called and left messages, reporters had left requests for more interviews, and Craig had quickly silenced the new phone Derek had brought for them. A few more reporters came by the house hoping to see the family, but were turned away by the officer guarding the door—another good reason to have a cop stationed there day and night. Thankfully, most of yesterday's hubbub had subsided, and all was quiet at the moment.
Zach returned inside, leaving Officer Castillo alone on the front porch. Kara, handing Craig his tea, intercepted the boy on his way back to the den. "Hey kiddo, let me see those wrists." He held them out for her willingly; none of his obstinacy and irritability from the past several weeks remained in him now, at least for the moment. Kara enjoyed it while she could—the boy would reach adolescence in a couple of years, after all. Even so, he seemed more appreciative somehow, and in a deeper way than when he had first come to them. Perhaps this new spirit would last.
The rope burns that scarred his wrists had faded just a bit. Kara rubbed a finger across one. "Does that hurt?"
"Not as much as yesterday," Zach shrugged.
"Good. They look better."
"Did Dad really break that tape with his bare hands?"
Kara gave Zach a fond grin. "Yep, pulled it right apart. I saw him. How are the arms?"
Zach pinwheeled his right arm. "Better. This one still hurts sometimes." He shook the left one. "You want to see my stitches, too, don't you?" At her nod, he brushed his hair back and let her examine the place where his head had struck the entryway table. It, like the rope burns, was healing. All in all, the boy had come through his ordeal remarkably well physically, and—truth be told—emotionally, too. Nightmares that had troubled him the first night had been fewer the second night.
With an affectionate rub of his head, Kara released him to join his dad in the den. As the police had posted a guard over the house, Zach had taken to guarding Craig, jumping up to get what he needed, keeping Craig entertained. His attentiveness was good for both boys, repairing the strain they had felt between them over the past month.
Zach leaned against Craig on the couch and closed his eyes; despite the extra-long rest yesterday, he was still catching up. Craig pulled the boy against his left side and continued reading. Kara curled up in the armchair beside the computer desk with her gardening book and read peacefully for an
hour, until a knock at the front door announced a visitor.
Officer Castillo permitted Eddie inside. Agent Nyler stepped into the entryway behind him, a manila envelope in his hand. "Hey, everybody," Eddie greeted them. Zach opened his eyes and sat up, blinking sleep away.
Craig marked his place in the book and set it aside. "Hi, Eddie," he replied. "Any luck?"
"Nothing," Agent Nyler shook his head. "No sign of him. All the kidnappers know—or will tell us—are that Hugh McWrait hired them to kidnap Zach and that Lerwick offered them twice as much to get him and Zach out of the country. We have agents watching his house, his apartment, and his cabin on Bainbridge Island, but he hasn't made an appearance."
"I told you he wouldn't go home," Eddie admonished. "Once his plan went bad—"
Nyler cut him off. "We still had to check."
"He'll hide out somewhere and come back for Zach when your guard is down. You can't post officers outside the door forever."
"So tell me where he is!" Nyler returned. "You know him better than anyone."
Eddie mumbled something under his breath.
Nyler ignored him and waved toward the side door, which, though closed, was clearly damaged; light shone through the doorframe where Nyler had kicked it in. "Sorry about the door," he said.
"It was unlocked, you know," Kara pointed out with a touch of good humor. "You could have just opened it."
Raising his eyebrows, Nyler looked guiltily back at it. His cell phone chimed. "The office," he shrugged to the Flemings. "Excuse me." He stepped away into the hall to answer.
"How're you feeling?" Eddie asked with a sheepish look at Craig. The young man felt some responsibility for the injuries, his father having been the one who had inflicted them.
Craig flexed the fingers of his right hand gingerly, refusing to wince. "A little better. Should be in good enough shape for baseball season when we get there. Lucky for me your father's a lousy shot."
"Aiming a gun is the one thing he could never do," Eddie replied dryly. "I was a better shot a week after he taught me than he ever was." He turned to Zach. "My mother—she used to tell you that your dad was a good man. Now you know for sure."
"Yeah," Zach answered simply, eyeing Craig's arm in the sling. He snuggled back against his dad again. Craig wrapped his good arm around the boy's chest.
"So," Kara spoke up, "what happens to you now, Eddie?"
The young man shifted his weight and gazed out the picture window. "I don't know. Prison, I'm sure…but Nyler hasn't arrested me just yet. He's been keeping me close, though. They actually set up a bed for me in the FBI building last night so they could have me around without taking me into custody. He wants me to help him track down my father."
"Are you okay with that?"
He hesitated. "I was only willing to help rescue Zach, until…well, this." He motioned toward Craig's arm. "But if he's willing to kill a person to take Zach, he…has to be stopped."
"Well," Kara said, "maybe once all this is over, they'll let you off easy."
Eddie shrugged. "If they don't, I can't really complain. As many places as I've broken into, I've earned some jail time."
Something about how his green eyes scanned the den and the kitchen as he said that gave Kara a funny feeling. "Eddie, have you ever…broken in here?"
His face, already framed by his strawberry-blond hair and goatee, blushed a full red.
"You have, haven't you?" She gave him a stern look. Craig looked at him in astonishment, and Zach with fascination.
"Only once," he mumbled at last. "Usually, I just followed you to work—made sure you were good, honest people, you know. I couldn't let Zach go to you if you wouldn't be good to him."
Kara set her chin in her hand, her elbow propped on the armrest of her chair. "Hmm. Well, as long as you're coming clean, what did you take?"
"Nothing but information."
Kara narrowed her eyes at him. "What sort of information?"
"You know, making sure this would be a good place for Zach, getting the layout of the house and the property…"
The layout? Why would he need— Her eyes locked onto Zach. "Zechariah Timothy!" she barked. His head, lolling against his dad's chest, snapped to attention. "You told me you guessed where the bathroom was! And where the glasses were! And Paws—" Her eyes flashed at Eddie again. "You told him where to find Paws, didn't you? You set us up!"
"No, I—"
"He didn't, Mom!" Zach defended him. "All he told me was that if I needed a bathroom, a lot of houses have one in the hall by the front door, and that if I was thirsty, a lot of people put their glasses in the cabinet above the—" With sudden realization, his eyes flashed toward Eddie, too. "You did tell me where to find all that stuff!"
"Well, not in so many words," Eddie muttered. "I just thought it might help you feel at home more quickly."
"He certainly did that!" Kara scolded them both. "Just walked right in here and helped himself to a towel and a glass of water, let the dog into the kitchen…"
Abruptly, she noticed Craig laughing at her. Her first reaction was to bark at him as well, but instead she began to laugh, too. With Zach sitting right there beside him watching her, absently scratching his nose with his thumb like Craig always did, she couldn't help herself. Eddie had risked everything to send Zach to them, had risked everything again to rescue him, and now…well, look what it had brought them. They had a son, and Zach had a home. Would all be idyllic as he grew up? Of course not—life was never like that. But life was better now—better for the three of them than when they had been apart.
Agent Nyler strode purposefully back into the den. "We've got to go," he told Eddie.
"What happened?" Eddie asked.
"Two things. They just issued an arrest warrant for Hugh McWrait, based on the information you and the kidnappers gave us." He gave Eddie a meaningful look. "Have you been gathering this information…freelance…all this time?"
Eddie seemed confused. "I'm not working for anybody, if that's what you mean. I just thought he should pay for what he did to Zach. He funded my father's first artificial womb." Eddie was quiet for a moment, remembering. "What's the second thing?"
"Your father just bought a ticket out of Seatac Airport, to Toronto. The flight leaves in two hours. He's running to Canada."
Eddie frowned. "Why Canada?" He considered for a moment; Nyler watched and did not interrupt the young man's thoughts. "How did he buy the ticket?"
"Credit card. That's how we found out."
Eddie shook his head. "No. That's a rookie mistake. My father doesn't make rookie mistakes. It's a decoy. Have agents watch for him, but he won't be there. He's probably already left the country, and he's buying time so he can get to wherever he's going."
"And where's that?" Nyler pressed.
"No idea," Eddie admitted.
Nyler gave a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes.
Zach suddenly sat up straight. "Is there a place called Caracas?"
"Caracas?" Nyler responded. "The capital of Venezuela. Why?"
"Grandfather—I mean Eddie's dad—called someone while we were on the ferry. He said he was taking me to Caracas the next day. They were talking in Spanish."
"You speak Spanish?" Nyler raised his eyebrows.
Zach frowned. "Why does that surprise everybody?"
Agent Nyler turned to Eddie. "What do you think?"
Eddie stroked his goatee. "Could be. He has a lab hidden somewhere; it makes sense that wherever he wanted to keep Zach would be near it."
"Okay. They'll let us know if your father shows up at the airport. Let's go see what we can find out about Caracas." With a quick farewell, they turned to leave, but Nyler stopped suddenly and spun back to them. "I almost forgot the reason we came by…" He still held the manila envelope in his hand. He passed it to Craig, who opened it.
"The photos?" Craig asked, furrowing his brows. Kara hop
ped up and moved to the couch to see them as Craig drew them out. The picture on top was the last one Zach had given them—the one of him before he was born, growing inside Dr. Lerwick's artificial womb.
"We found them in the getaway car," Nyler explained. "We put the ones Zach took out back with the others to complete the set. We had to keep the originals as evidence, but there was nothing stopping us from duplicating them. Jackie and I thought you might like to have them."
Craig began to thumb through them one at a time. Kara and Zach looked in from either side, though of course Zach had seen them already. After the photo on top, the next picture showed Dr. Lerwick posing proudly beside the artificial womb; it was empty. In the one that followed, a small, pink spot that must have been Zach floated peacefully. The spot grew as Craig flipped slowly through the pictures, the fetus's umbilical cord clearly visible, attached to a transparent tube that curved out of the pictures.
Kara watched, entranced, barely acknowledging Agent Nyler and Eddie as they departed. When she saw the next photograph, her breath caught. Dr. Lerwick's hands—his body was not visible, but they must have been his—were lifting tiny Zach out of the womb; only Zach's head protruded from the clear solution in which he had grown. He was barely as long as the man's two hands together.
The picture wrenched her heart. It was a truly miraculous moment, and far more for her and Craig than for Dr. Lerwick—the birth of their son. But that man is a monster! Kara fumed. He risked Zach's life—and how many others? He should have let us be there…for Zach's sake, never mind our own!
Her anger persisted but gradually gave way to wonder as Craig continued through the photos. Zach grew before her eyes—first an infant, then a toddler, then a handsome little boy dressed in a shirt that was too long and pants that were too short. No one else appeared in the pictures; the photographer had been careful not to include anyone but Zach.
Zach as a little boy had those Craig-eyes-but-blue that Kara knew so well, and that straight, brown hair that was a little darker and a fair bit thicker than Craig's, but otherwise just the same. In one photograph, he was smiling—that easy-going smile, full of joy and the wonder of life, that she had come to find so refreshing. In another, his face was dark, angry, his eyes red as if he had been crying.
The little boy became a schoolboy, and the schoolboy grew picture by picture into the Zechariah now watching his parents as much as he watched the photographs.
Setting the last photo at the back of the stack, Craig leaned against a cushion and sighed. "Wow… Do you remember when these were taken, Zach?"
"No," he replied. "Just the last couple, maybe."
Craig reached up and rubbed Kara's arm. "We should put these somewhere special," he suggested.
"In the family photo album," she nodded. "There are some empty pages yet. Zechariah needs to be in the family album." Squeezing Craig's hand and pausing to tousle Zach's hair, she walked with moist eyes to the hall cabinets to find that album.
*****