Sisters in the Wind(90)
What Would Devery Do? She would be clever and try to delay discovery of the items’ removal. Who knew how often Missus checked inside the canvas frame? Perhaps she routinely shook the frame, listening and feeling the bundle shifting inside.
I looked around for something that was the approximate size and weight of the bundle. A book, but not one regularly read like the Bible. As Mona Hix had written, the Hoppys were not book people. There was a small bookcase I had dusted regularly. Neither Mister nor Missus had commented when I had alphabetized the meager collection months ago. I grabbed a random book, which I wrapped inside one of a dozen or so kitchen towels. Close enough. The original bundle was tucked into the waistband of my jeans and hidden by the baggy sweatshirt I had worn as maternity wear.
I didn’t bother taping something in place of the coin purse. As soon as the backing was removed, the theft would be discovered. I did, however, wrap the duct tape around the coin purse before shoving it inside my bra. Bridget watched forensic crime shows that I must have absorbed even from my bedroom. The tape might have fingerprints or hair or other clues.
Completing one final glance around the apartment for anything amiss, I saw Mister and his sons walking from the new pole barn toward the farmhouse. It was too early for dinner. Bruce happened to look up at the window. I scurried away, praying he hadn’t seen me. He wouldn’t think anything of including it among the random observations and factoids he blurted daily.
Back in our bedroom Lexi napped, and I retreated to the bathroom. It wasn’t unusual for me to lock the door and take my time. Tonya had always laughed about my “dookie reads” and how I was just like her friend Maia. This time, I unwrapped and read the journal from the iris canvas frame.
Crime shows frequently mention a “smoking gun.” Actual, concrete evidence of a crime and its perpetrator. It proves a defendant’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.
Missus kept a record of adoptions beginning twenty years ago and ending with Paige’s. Baby Allen’s wasn’t included. Nor was Luke’s. This meant the journal was for the illegal adoptions only. Tucked between pages were folded documents. I didn’t want to take the time to inspect each one, but the few I randomly pulled out looked like copies of old checks made out to the fake name on the false identification card with the photo of Missus. There were also documents with the attorney’s name. I figured Missus kept the papers as proof of his involvement.
My eyes welled up with tears I’d suppressed over the past few months. I could hand the book to someone in authority. The Hoppys and their attorney could be prosecuted. Luke would be safe. The adoption hadn’t been finalized yet. I could …
The store security guard’s grip on my upper arm flashed through my memories vividly enough that I could feel it all over again.
Mrs. Clark’s voice echoed, relaying the lies told by the Sterlings.
I had proof this time.
I remembered the initial look Mrs. Sobecki had given when she first noticed—but hadn’t recognized—me at the gas station in Alpena. Disdain. Contempt for a wretched, no-good pregnant teen. Unfit and unworthy to be a mother to any child.
I had proof this time.
Would it matter to anyone? I didn’t matter, but would the evidence matter?
It only mattered to Mister and Missus. And the attorney. And probably the social worker or others who were in on the illegal actions.
My mission was to keep Luke safe. Just as Missus had kept documentation to take down anyone who might betray the adoption ring, I now had leverage to keep the Hoppys at bay. As long as I was gone before they discovered my theft, Luke would be safe. I would be safe. They wouldn’t kill me or threaten Luke’s life if they didn’t know what I had done with the evidence. Missus would wonder whether I had arranged somehow for the evidence to be delivered to someone, somewhere who would pay attention.
Lexi was up from her nap by the time I finished in the bathroom. She had opened our bedroom window and removed the screen to sit on the windowsill, straddling one leg on either side. With her right hand gripping the sill, Lexi stuck her head out the window for a pre-dinner smoke. After she finished brushing her teeth in the bathroom, I asked for a cigarette.
“It’s such a bad habit. Don’t start,” she said while still handing me one.
“I’ll be okay,” I promised.
After dinner, I did my cleanup as usual. Mister and Missus joined everyone in the living room. They had rented Cloverfield and Nacho Libre on DVD.
Jennifer planned to run an errand in Alpena. I asked to tag along. I took one last walk around the hammock grove before meeting up with her, backpack over my shoulder.
When Jennifer’s car pulled into the driveway to collect me, I thought: This is it. Time to leave.
As I walked away from the hammock grove, I heard a baby cry. I thought it was Baby Allen in the car. But … no. It came from behind. From the hammock grove.
Do not look back.
Ignore the crying.
Do. Not. Go. Back.
Just then, Devery drove up.
“Bruce didn’t want to see Kung Fu Panda,” Devery said. “You wanna go instead? C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. Please? Pretty please?”
I made a split-second decision to go with Devery instead of Jennifer. Devery always said to keep a part of your escape plan a secret, even from yourself.
Plus, I’d be able to hug her one last time.