The Toddler's Tale

“It’s nothing like that,” Max went on. “While I was driving around on a back country road spelling out a few home truths to Ms. Markum, we met up with a hysterical mother at a deserted excavation site. Her fourteen-month-old daughter is still trapped in a pipe.”

There was a pronounced silence, then Michael breathed the words, “Dear God.” No one in the world understood Max’s pain better than his friend.

“Yeah,” Max whispered. “Ironic, isn’t it, after I quit the force so I wouldn’t have to deal with this kind of situation again.”

“Drive away from there and don’t look back! Let the paramedics handle it.”

“You know me better than that.”

“Unfortunately I do. What a hell of a time to have Chelsea Markum in tow! Give me the location and I’ll get rid of her so fast she won’t know what hit her.”

“Believe it or not, that’s the last thing I want you to do. Chelsea’s been an amazing help so far.”

Michael made a noise that sounded more like a bark. “Come on, Max. It’s me, your closest buddy. We’re talking about the woman who’s been hounding the Maitlands for over a year. She’s poison.”

“I know.”

Max raked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t say he was sorry about kidnapping her. He’d been forced to do something drastic before any more people had gotten hurt. But he’d said some pretty harsh things, and he wasn’t too pleased over his own behavior.

Even if it was true, his reference to the black widow had been unkind. In hindsight he realized he’d gone too far. That was the problem when he got around Chelsea Markum. She was like an inflammation that flared up with increasing frequency despite all the precautions he took to stop it.

Oddly enough, he knew nothing about her private life. If he’d wanted to, he could have used the resources at his disposal as a PI to find out if she was married or single. So far he hadn’t given in to that temptation.

One thing was certain. There’d never been a breath of personal scandal attached to her name, only the scandal she created and exposed on “Tattle Today.”

If she had a husband, it was Austin’s best kept secret. As for Chelsea being romantically involved with someone in town, that would be news to Max, as well. But he couldn’t fathom a female as attractive as she was being without a man. He supposed she could be dating her boss or a colleague.

The idea of Chelsea having a lover put him in a foul enough mood that he preferred not to think about her at all. Unfortunately that was easier said than done. Especially since he’d seen her comforting Traci. He couldn’t forget the pleading in her eyes when she’d begged him to trust her for Traci’s sake.

“Michael? Just hear me out on this.” In a matter of minutes he’d told his friend everything. “As it stands, I have no idea how soon we’ll pull Betsy from that pipe. Hopefully before tomorrow. The press is going to be converging on every major hospital in Austin trying to learn the whereabouts of the child, so what I need from you is permission to have Betsy flown to Maitland Maternity Clinic. That’ll at least buy us some time.”

“You’ve got it. In fact as soon as we hang up, I’ll alert the necessary staff. Ford Carrington is one of the best pediatricians around. If the child requires surgery, then she’ll be in good hands. What else can I do for you?”

“Traci ought to be seen by a doctor, too.”

“You can count on Abby to give her a thorough physical.”

“Good. Traci’s been a hostage in her own home for a couple of years and I’m thinking maybe psychiatric counseling wouldn’t go amiss, if she’s willing.”

“If anyone can convince her to seek professional help, Abby’s the one to do it. She’ll also know which specialist to refer her to in case there’s a serious problem beyond her expertise as an OB. Anything else?”

“Can you arrange for Traci to be in the same room with her daughter?”

“Of course. And we’ll up the security. We’re getting used to it.”

Max closed his eyes. “Thanks, Michael.”

“You’ve done more for me, so forget it.”

“That’s not possible. Anyway, I’ve got to go. But first, tell me what’s happening with Jake and Connor?”

“Jake’s spending a little private time with Camille.”

“It’s long overdue.” As an FBI agent, Jake Maitland had guarded Camille for the past six months, and finally the two had acknowledged their love.

“That’s for sure. As soon as he’s free, I’ll contact Connor, and the three of us will put our heads together to figure out a plan to find Janelle and that creep who’s been posing as Connor.”

“What’s the FBI’s take on things right now?”

“Nothing we know about yet. But we’re not waiting on them.”

“I hear you.”

“It’s not your worry, either. You’ve got enough on your plate. Just keep me posted. When you arrive in the helicopter, I’ll be waiting for you. Then I can fill you in, and we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds good. You’re one in a million, Michael.”

“The feeling’s mutual. Good luck. And, Max—”

“Yes?”

“I know you’ll get to the little girl in time. I feel it in my bones.”

“I pray to God you’re right.”

“I’ll pray, too.”

“Thanks, bud.”

Max clicked off.

Everything was in place. All they needed now was a miracle.

He handed Officer Keaton the cell phone, then left for the site on a run, pleased to see that the other officers had sealed off the house and the excavation site. Any onlookers or press would have to stand outside the tape, which would keep them a good ten feet from the edge of the pit.

“CHELSEA?”

At the sound of Max’s low, vibrant voice she let out a soft gasp and jerked her head in his direction. The darkness created an intimacy in which she could imagine they were the only two people for miles around.

“Things are under control. The officers at the house know the truth. They’ll do their part to protect Traci. One of them will get hold of the realtor and go for supplies. Is Betsy still making noises?”

“Yes. She just started crying again.”

“What did you tell the police captain?”

You mean the one who can’t stand me? She sucked in her breath. “Exactly what you told me to say. When it came to giving him names, I played dumb. If he asks, you can make up whatever you like,” she added in a quiet voice.

“Good girl.”

Those two unexpected words caused warmth to flood her system.

Perhaps Max didn’t realize what he’d just done, but this was the first time since she’d known him that he’d said something kind to her without hesitation or any hint of censure. Almost as if they were partners. It was a moment to cherish.

Don’t count on there being another one, Chelsea.

His eyes were still searching hers when one of the firefighters walked up to them.

“Hey, Jamison—long time no see.”

“That’s the truth.” The two men shook hands. “Since I arrived on the scene first, I want to help.” The blood was pounding in Max’s ears. “I have to get that little girl out. You know what I mean?”

The two men eyed each other while a stream of unspoken words passed between them. Brent had been one of the firefighters at the scene when the child who’d lost his life in the laundry chute had been pronounced dead.

“Sure. I’ll inform the guys. Grab the equipment you need off the utility truck when it gets here.”

“Thanks. I’ll owe you big-time for this.”

“It’s okay,” Brent said in a subdued voice, and patted Max’s shoulder. “No one walked away from that other case unaffected. This time the outcome’s going to be different.”

That’s what Michael had said. Max was starting to believe it. Realizing introductions were in order, he said, “Chelsea, meet Commander Brent Lewis, the battalion chief. In the past we’ve been on the scene of many a case together. Brent, this is Ms. Markum of ‘Tattle Today TV.’”

The other man broke into a wide smile. “I’ve seen your show plenty of times. You’re the best at what you do.”

“Thank you.” Chelsea supposed his comment could have been taken several ways, but she was too worried about Betsy to analyze the remark.

“Commander, I know it’s not that cold for us, but is there any way to keep the baby warm while you’re trying to get her out?”

“Yes. I’ve already sent for the utility truck. We’ll have floodlights, and fans to blow warm air through the pipe.”

She put a hand to her throat. “Thank goodness she won’t have to shiver down there much longer. Do you think I could fit inside the pipe since I’m smaller than the men? Maybe I could reach her.”

“No. It’s only a twelve incher. If we can’t make her crawl out, then we’ll have to free the blocked end so we can lift the pipe enough for her to slide out. That means getting a backhoe out here to unearth it. If that fails, we’ll have to cut the pipe.”

Chelsea shuddered. “Will you have to use one of those torches?”

“No. That would make it too hot. We’ll probably stick with the rotary saw.”

She bowed her head. “It’ll be dangerous no matter what you do.”

“Not if we’re careful. But that’s why we’d rather try coaxing her out first. We’ll go down there now. When I give the signal, start singing again. Your voice will comfort her,” he said over his shoulder before walking away.

“I’ll try to keep her responding.”

“If you get too cold or need to use the rest room, I told the officers to let you in the house,” Max murmured. “They’ll have plenty of food and drinks on hand.”

His thoughtfulness warmed her. “Thank you, Max. But I’m hoping she’ll be rescued long before I have to break my promise to Traci about leaving the baby alone.”

“Amen to that.”

He was gone in an instant.

Chelsea knew the man cared about people. She’d witnessed that concern and commitment on other cases. But just now the emotional intensity of his response led her to believe he’d been affected on a much deeper level by this crisis with Betsy.

She’d sensed that the circumstances under which Traci’s baby had come into the world had been as horrifying to him as to Chelsea. The fact that Betsy’s mother had been willing to face being murdered to save herself and her child from a fate worse than death proved what a remarkable parent she really was.

Some mothers didn’t have a clue.

Tears trickled down Chelsea’s cheeks as she remembered the wasteland of her own upbringing. Little Betsy had no idea how lucky she was to have a mother who loved her so much she would put her daughter’s welfare before all else, even her own life.

More than anything in the world, Chelsea wanted Traci to have the opportunity to raise her child in an environment of total love, not fear. Max wanted the same thing for them.

If either he or Chelsea had anything to say about it, Traci would be given that chance. Already Chelsea’s mind was filling with plans she would like to put into action once Max had restored Betsy to her mother.

While she waited for him to give her more directions, she ate the sandwich he’d brought her earlier. A few minutes later she noticed another fire truck roll up. Three more firefighters began unloading lights and heating equipment with their matchless expertise.

No matter what it took, Max would make the miracle happen. On that score Chelsea harbored no doubts. He was a man who lit his own fires. When she really allowed herself to think about it, there was no one to compare with him.

From her perch at the edge of the excavation, she followed Max’s progress to the utility truck. Behind it she spied a couple of television vans. It hadn’t taken them long. It never did, she reflected.

Before long the scene would turn into a media frenzy, but all she cared about was Traci’s little girl, who needed to be kept warm throughout her ordeal.

“Chelsea?” Max’s voice called a few minutes later. He had entered the pit. “Try talking to her, and then sing something.”

She spread the tarp on the ground, then lay down on her stomach so she could extend her head over the edge.

“Hello, little darling. It’s Chelsea. Come on out of there. Come on, sweetheart. Come to me and your mommy. That’s a girl. We’re right here. All you have to do is crawl closer. Show us what a big girl you are.”

Another song, “The Happy Wanderer,” came to mind. It was a tune she and her friends used to sing on their excursions into the Jura mountains above the Swiss vineyards.

“Did you like that, honey?”

“She’s imitating some of the sounds! Sing the song again! Maybe she’ll start crawling toward me!”

Encouraged, Chelsea did Max’s bidding. When she ran out of verses, she started again, then switched to “The Lonely Goatherd” from The Sound of Music.

“Well, well, well.” The familiar male voice came from the other side of the tape. “The boss is fuming because he hasn’t heard from you since you left for the Lord ranch ages ago. Unless this is a better story, you’re going to have some explaining to do.”

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