Bringing Rosie Home
A kidnapping shattered their family...
Rena and Grant VanMeter lived every parent’s worst nightmare when their preschool daughter was abducted. Riddled with guilt and hoping time apart would help them heal, Rena made the hardest decision of her life. But stunning news reunites her with Grant. Rosie has been found.
Putting up a united front for their child’s sake isn’t as easy as they thought. Grant hasn’t forgiven Rena for taking her eyes off Rosie for a few critical seconds. And Rena has yet to forgive herself. But their little girl needs them more than ever...
LOREE LOUGH once sang for her supper. That space reserved in pubs for “the piano lady”? Well, that’s where she sat, strumming her Yamaha in cities all over the United States and Canada. Now and then, she blows the dust from the old six-string to croon a tune or two, but mostly, she writes. She feels blessed that most of her stories have earned four- and five-star reviews, but what Loree is most proud of are her Readers’ Choice awards.
Loree and her husband live in a Baltimore suburb and enjoy spending time at their cozy cabin in Pennsylvania’s Allegheny Mountains (where she has nearly perfected her critter-tracking skills). They have two lovely daughters and seven “grandorables,” and because she believes in giving back, Loree donates generously to charity (see the full list at www.loreelough.com).
Loree loves hearing from her readers, some of whom have become lifelong friends! Find her on Facebook, Twitter or Pinterest.
Also By Loree Lough
By Way of the Lighthouse
The Man She Knew
Those Marshall Boys
Once a Marine
Sweet Mountain Rancher
The Firefighter’s Refrain
A Child to Love
Raising Connor
Devoted to Drew
Saving Alyssa
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
Bringing Rosie Home
Loree Lough
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08087-3
BRINGING ROSIE HOME
© 2018 Loree Lough
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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“Ready?” Grant grasped the knob as Rena squared her shoulders.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Grant opened the door to the playroom. And there she was.
Our Rosie.
Grant squatted down to her height. “Hey there, kiddo,” he said.
Rosie looked at each of them in turn, as a slow smile lit up her face. Grant held out his arms, and Rosie ran to him. “Daddy, Daddy, oh, Daddy...”
Through her tears, Rena could see that Grant’s eyes were moist, too.
“Ah, my sweet Rosie-girl,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.” Bracketing her face with his big, strong hands, he stared into her eyes. “I’m so happy to see you!”
“I’m happy to see you, too!”
He turned slightly, held out a hand to invite Rena closer. “Go ahead, sweetie, give your mom a big hello hug.”
Oh, how it hurt that Rosie only moved closer because of Grant’s gentle nudge! Rena wrapped her arms around her daughter, willing herself to appreciate the momentary contact, to ignore the way Rosie stood, arms pressed tight to her sides, stiff as a statue.
Rena turned her loose and feigned a smile. Hands on the tiny shoulders, she said, “I missed you, sweet girl, missed you so much!”
The child’s blank stare shook her to the core.
Dear Reader,
I’m sure that every time you hear about a missing child, your heart breaks a little, just as mine does. Our instinct is to protect the little ones, so we put our faith in first responders, search and rescue personnel and their well-trained dogs...and God. Our grief is palpable when the worst-possible scenario unfolds, but we’re overjoyed when parents are reunited with their child.
Such is the story of Rena and Grant VanMeter, whose little girl was kidnapped at age three. Imagine their grief, compounded by the separation that seemed their only avenue to respite.
Then, five years later, the lead detective calls to say “We found her!”, upending their world yet again as they reunite...for Rosie’s sake.
Through hard work, acceptance and forgiveness, Rena and Grant realize the love that brought them together in the first place is still very much alive, and as the family heals, their future looks promising. Sadly, that isn’t the case for too many of the families that experience similar shattering losses. (Case in point: the family whose story served as my inspiration for Bringing Rosie Home.)
My prayer for all missing children is that they will return, safe and unharmed, to the loving arms of their parents. I pray just as hard for fractured families that never find their way back to shared happiness. And I pray that none of us will ever be touched by such searing pain.
Wishing you well in all you do,
Loree
This story is dedicated to those whose loved ones have gone missing, and to the once-missing individuals who have been found.
May they all know the comfort and peace
of home, wherever they are.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Huge and heartfelt thanks to all those who provided insights, opinions and information that helped lend authenticity to this story: the helpful employees of Baltimore’s Child Protective Services office, FBI agents Donald McCarthy and Paul Reagan*, pediatric psychiatrists Ron Abrams and Sue Robinson, detective Jack Royer, Adele and Phil Morrison* (whose son went missing in 1995), and Donna Ryan*, whose once-missing daughter was returned to her loving arms in 2001. (* = names changed at individuals’ request.)
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Dear Reader
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Extract
Chapter One
AS SHE’D DRESSED this morning, Rena had decided this would be her last session with Dr. Hutchinson. Two years of therapy, and what did she have to show for it? A smaller bank account and dozens of wasted hours, that was what. And the psychologist hadn’t brought her little girl back. Or saved Rena’s marriage.
But the analyst surprised her, shifting her line of questioning from Rosie’s kidnapping to Rena’s relationship—or lack thereof.
“How are things with Grant?” Martha asked.
They’d been separated over three years now, ever since Rena had taken her mother-in-law’s advice and turned Rosie’s room into a home office for Grant. When he saw it, every ugly thought and accusation he’d kept to himself had poured out, and when Rena had realized it was her presence—not sparkly tiaras, dolls and Teddy bears—that reminded him of that awful day, she’d offered to leave.
And he’d done nothing to stop her.
“We haven’t spoken in months.” Not since his grandfather died and he’d called to ask if she wanted to attend the services.
“Do you ever regret leaving?”
Only every day! Yes, Grant had allowed bitterness and blame to turn him into a surly, brooding man, but Rena remembered well the man he’d once been. The man he’d still be if she hadn’t taken her eyes off Rosie that day at the zoo.
“It was the right thing to do,” she said.
“For Grant? Or for you?”
“Both of us. Living under the same roof with the person responsible for what happened to Rosie... I don’t blame him for anything.”
Rena held her breath, partly to keep from remembering how it felt to have her sweet little girl beside her one minute and gone the next.
“We were both miserable.”
“Still,” Martha injected, “I wish he’d consider seeing someone. It might help him come to terms with it, and admit, finally, that it wasn’t your fault. That it could have happened to anyone.”
They’d been over this a dozen times. Maybe more. Rena didn’t feel much like repeating that she’d go to her grave feeling guilty for taking her eyes off Rosie during the field trip.
“But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to Rosie, because of me.”
Martha sighed. “I think you know what I’m going to say to that...”
Rena was about to admit that yes, she knew, and that pretending she wasn’t to blame only made it hurt more. But her cell phone buzzed.
Rena glanced at the number.
“Sorry, but I have to take this. It’s my... It’s Grant. Our hour is almost up, anyway, so...”
Rena was almost out the door before Martha said, “See you next week.”
No, she wouldn’t. But there wasn’t time to get into that now. Later, she’d call and cancel all future appointments.
“Hello?”
“Rena. I have important news. Are you sitting down?”
His voice sounded hoarse, deeper than usual. When she’d spoken with his mom a few days ago, Tina had complained about a dizzy spell. Grant was aware that she and his mother had stayed in close contact, and to his credit, had never said or done anything to discourage it.
“Is Tina all right?”
“She’s fine. Sends her love.”
Rena exhaled a breath of relief. She cared about her mother-in-law almost as much as her own mother. But if he hadn’t called about Tina’s health...
“Heard from Burt Campbell this morning.”
The detective who’d been assigned to the kidnapping case before FBI Agent Gonzalez had stepped in. Heart pounding, she made her way to the nearest bench and sat down. A call from Campbell could mean just one thing: after all this time, they’d finally found her little girl’s body.
“He got a call from the Chicago police.” Grant cleared his throat. “They’ve found Rosie. Alive.”
Chapter Two
WHAT A CRUEL joke it would be if it was someone else’s little girl.
“Are they... How can they be sure it’s Rosie?”
“She gave them our names,” Grant said. “Our address. Her preschool teacher’s name. Told them she called her favorite Teddy bear, Mr. Fuzzbottom. They sent me pictures, too. I’ll forward them to your cell. It’s our Rosie. No doubt in my mind.”
Our Rosie... She hadn’t heard him use that phrase since—
“I’ll make reservations and let you know when our flight takes off.” He paused. Cleared his throat. “If you want to come with me to Chicago, that is.”
“Of course I want to!”
Another pause, long enough this time that she was about to check if the call had been dropped.
“I’ll go home right now, dig up the paperwork. Rosie’s birth certificate. Her immunization records. Photographs. Our passports...”
Rena had left so quickly that day, more than three years ago now, that she hadn’t even thought to grab her birth certificate and passport. But the Chicago police would need proof that she and Grant were who they claimed to be.
“Rosie is speaking with a pediatric psychiatrist now,” Grant continued. “By the time we get there—I’m thinking midafternoon tomorrow at the latest—she’ll be prepared for the fact that we’re coming to take her home.”
Home. The house they’d shared since the day after their honeymoon, and the only place Rosie had ever lived...until the abduction. And where accusations and arguments pushed Grant and Rena apart even before she moved to Delaware’s Fenwick Island.
“I, ah, I think for the time being you should plan to stay at the house. Maybe you can stop by tonight, before we leave for Chicago, so you can unpack, make it look like you never left. Spend the night. That way, just one car to worry about at the airport.”
It was a lot to absorb in just a few minutes. She couldn’t imagine living under the same roof with him again, not after all the harsh words they'd exchanged. But there would be plenty of time later to question his decision. Right now, he was waiting for her reply.
“All right. I’ll go straight home to pack and make arrangements with work. And find someone to water my plants. And collect my mail. And then it’ll take me a few hours to drive to Ellicott City. Unless there’s traffic, I can be there by six.”
“Rena, you know what this means...”
“That we have to put on a good front, make Rosie believe we’re still a happy couple.”
“Exactly. She doesn’t need to cope with her parents’ breakup on top of everything else she’s gone through.”
How many times had she wondered about that? A thousand? Ten thousand? Even after accepting that they might never know, Rena had always hoped the kidnapper had been gentle and kind.
“I...I think that’s best, too,” she told him. “Anything, anything for Rosie’s sake.”
“I’ll pull something together for supper. We can talk about how we’re going to proceed while we eat.”
The invitation was a big sacrifice on his part, especially considering that during their last months together in the house, she’d slept in the guest room. He hadn’t stopped her from doing that, either. Would they go back to living as roommates? Rena couldn't imagine a more uncomfortable scenario.
“Yes, yes, that’s a good idea.”
Did she sound as much like a robot to Grant as she did to herself?
“How have you been, by the way?”
It surprised her that he’d bothered to ask. “Fine.” Seeing a shrink, trying not to give in to insanity, dealing with insomnia, but... “And you?”
“Fine,” he echoed.
But she knew he wasn’t. She could hear it in his strained voice. Neither of them were fine. How could they be?
“Well, I’d better skedaddle.”
How long since she’d heard him recite the phrase that had so often inspired good-natured teasing between them? Not once in the five years since Rosie vanished, like the smoke from a spent match. It told her that Grant had hope, real hope, for the first time since the kidnapping. His belief that they’d find her had been the second biggest issue between them next to the blame. The third biggest? Her dreams of having another baby. “Another child won’t replace Rosie. How can you just give up on her?” he’d demand. “What kind of mother just throws in the towel this way?”
“Just so you know, I asked Mom not to come around for a few days, to give Rosie time to adjust to being back,” Grant said now.
Rena clenched her jaw. “But Grant, your mother was always such a huge part of her life. Wouldn’t it seem strange to her if Tina didn’t stop by once we're...” She couldn’t bring herself to call it home. Not yet. “At least for a little while?”
He didn’t reply right away, and Rena braced herself for his dismissal.
“You’re right, I guess,” he said, surprising her. “I’ll give her a call. You think she should be at the house, waiting? Or stop by a couple of hours after we get home?”
Who was this cordial man? In their last few months of living together, he hadn’t agreed with her on anything.
“Later, maybe, to give Rosie a chance to look around, reacquaint herself with her surroundings.” And being with us.
“Right. Right.”
In the moment of silence that followed, she considered asking how the news had affected him. But she wasn’t quite ready to go there with him yet. For now, cordial felt like the safest course of action.
“I’d better let you go. You still have your house keys?”
“Yes...” But even if she didn’t, Rena could use the one she’d hidden in the ceramic frog lawn ornament near the front door. Unless a storm had blown it from the table, she was sure it would still be there.
“Good. If I’m not there, let yourself in. Nothing has changed, so you won’t have any trouble finding things. Just make yourself at home.”
“Thanks, Grant.”
“That isn’t exactly true...that nothing has changed,” he continued. “Rosie’s room is different from when you last saw it.”
“Oh?”
“I found all her stuff in the attic, right where you put it, and thanks to those pictures you took for the insurance album, everything is back to the way it was before...”
His voice trailed off, but she knew what he’d stopped himself from saying: Before you packed things up. Put our girl out of sight, out of mind.
“I...ah... Drive safely, Rena,” he said, and hung up.
She sat in Martha’s waiting room, still as a statue, as tears filled her eyes. By this time tomorrow, she’d get to hold her sweet daughter in her arms again. Rosie was alive. Rosie was alive!
“Must have been some phone call,” her therapist said, poking her head out of her office.
Rena knuckled her damp eyes. “It was Grant. He said...he said they...they found Rosie.”
Martha walked over and sat beside her, sliding an arm across Rena’s shoulders.
“Oh, Rena, that’s wonderful news!”
“She’s in Chicago. I don’t know any of the details. Except that Rosie is talking to a child specialist right now, so that by the time we arrive, she’ll be somewhat prepared. We decided to present a united front. I’m moving back into the house to make the transition easier for her.”
“Grant’s idea, or yours?”
“His, but I agree.”
Leaning back slightly, Martha said, “That’s a lot for him to ask, don’t you think, after the way he treated you?”
“I’m not fooling myself. I know it won’t be easy, especially not at first, but I’ll do whatever it takes to help Rosie adjust to being home again. It’s the least I can do after...”
Martha held up a hand, effectively silencing the self-deprecating comment that would follow. “How old is she now?”
“She turned nine three weeks ago, on May 5.”
“And she was three when she was taken?”
“Almost four.”
Martha pointed out that Rosie had no doubt changed a lot in all that time. “Are you ready for that?”
“I haven’t really had time to wrap my mind around the news yet. But thankfully, I’ll have hours and hours to think about it.” During the drive to Ellicott City. On the plane to Chicago. And of course, tonight, after she retreated to the guest room...
“I was heading home, but I can stay if you want to talk.”
Rena got to her feet. “Thanks, but I need to get home and pack for the drive to Maryland.”
Martha stood, too. “Things are happening fast. If you need me, just call.”
Nodding, Rena dropped her phone into her purse and started for the exit. “Thanks,” she said. Martha wouldn’t hear from her again, but this wasn’t the time or place to discuss why. “That’s nice to know.”
* * *
GRANT HADN’T REALIZED how much he’d missed the sound of her voice. Even with the shock of hearing this news, Rena had been calm and quiet. One of the things he’d admired most about her had been her ability to maintain her composure, even during the most stressful moments.
Like the time Rosie fell off the swing and broke her arm. He’d totally freaked out, but Rena had kept her cool and orchestrated a trip to the ER for X-rays, told jokes and made silly faces while the tech set the bone and wrapped Rosie’s arm in a cast. And the day he’d nearly electrocuted himself trying to add a circuit breaker to the electrical panel. He’d thought surely he’d bought a one-way ticket to heaven, but her soft, reassuring voice was all it had taken to make him believe he’d be fine.
Fine. It was what she said when he’d asked how she was, and what he’d said when she returned the question. In truth, he’d only felt this frazzled on one other occasion: the day Rosie went missing.
Because Rena had been paying more attention to somebody else’s kid than to their little girl.
He felt a little crazy, waffling between loving her still and despising her for putting them in the middle of every parent’s worst nightmare.
In all fairness, he hadn’t suffered that nightmare alone. Guilt had tormented Rena, turning her from a confident, lively young mother into a jumpy, sleep-deprived woman who burst into tears at the drop of a hat. And he hadn’t made things easier for her.
But then, was it his fault that the only reason the nightmare began was because she’d been too busy minding Rosie’s classmate to notice a stranger carrying their only child away?
Grant looked at the clock. She’d be here in an hour, two at most. Not much time to get his head straight. And he’d need a clear mind to cope with having her home again. Why in the world had he suggested that she spend the night? Anything, anything for Rosie, she’d said. Still, tonight it would just be the two of them, alone for the first time in three long years.
Shaking his head, he headed to the guest room. Last time he’d checked, there were clean sheets on the bed. Other than a little dust on the furniture, things looked fine. He put a stack of fresh towels in the guest bath, then ran a dust rag over the headboard and footboard, the dresser and night stand.
“Might as well vacuum the family room, too,” he muttered, heading for the linen closet. And while he was at it, Grant would figure out what to make for supper.