Not Quite Crazy
Page 54
“And the fat lip, that’s from the kids at the foster home?” the cop asked Ford.
“That’s what he told us,” Ford told them.
“Can’t blame the kid for not wanting to go back,” Ford’s father added. “He could have stayed with us.”
“I told him that,” said Ford. “But he thought the cops would just take him back there.”
The lead officer shook his head. “Not if there is evidence of abuse.”
“There wasn’t any abuse at Rachel’s house,” Ford argued.
“I hear ya, kid. I don’t always like my job.” He turned to Rachel. “Is there anything else in this that offers any clue?”
They watched the video twice more. “No.” She wished there was.
The officers thanked Ford and his family and asked them to call if they heard from Owen, and then the family walked out onto the frozen sidewalk.
“Now what?” Rachel asked the officers.
“We’ll give Owen’s picture to the local police and NYPD and have him taken in if they see him.”
She waited for an and. When her stare was met with silence, she said it herself. “And?”
“He’s a runaway.”
“What does that mean?” Jason asked.
“Teenage runaways aren’t anything new. We put them in the database, pick them up when we find them, and return them home.”
“But you don’t look for them?” Outrage rested behind Rachel’s question.
“Miss Price, have you seen the streets of Manhattan? They are filled with teenage runaways from all over this country. I’m sorry. You seem like a nice lady, you obviously care about this boy.”
“I’m the only family he knows.”
“We understand. But there really isn’t anything we can do at this point. If he contacts you, tell him to come home.”
“He was forced to leave my home.”
“Let him know that if Ford’s parents are okay with him staying there for a while, until your custody matters are resolved, most of the time the social workers will approve. Especially in light of the physical abuse he seems to have suffered from the foster care facility.”
Jason held her close. “And in the meantime?”
“You might try searching his social media or search his Internet history. He might have looked at places to go before giving up his phone. And pray Owen was speaking the truth in his video about his mother not raising a fool.”
The officers gave her their contact information before pulling out of Ford’s driveway.
Rachel shivered, realizing for the first time that it had started to snow.
“Let’s go back to my house,” Jason suggested.
“I’m going into the city to look for him.”
Jason stood in front of her. “Let’s go back to my house and strategize. See if we can pinpoint where Owen might have gone. Officer Bailey was right. Owen might have looked something up on the Internet that can clue us in. We’ll get some help and go search for him together and cover more ground than what the two of us can do alone.”
Her teeth chattered. Much as she wanted to leave right then, what Jason said made sense.
Jason forced her into a hotel after two in the morning.
Nathan stayed behind at the estate and checked Rachel’s house twice just in case Owen went home. Glen and Trent took the uptown and downtown subways, searching the stations. Mary and Monica spent their time on the phone, calling shelters and hospitals, although Jason wasn’t about to tell Rachel about the hospital search. Yet when Mary mentioned doing it, he agreed. The inch of snow they’d gotten overnight wasn’t something anyone should be sleeping in. He liked to think Owen would be more resourceful; Jason reminded himself that the kid was only fifteen. Underestimating the power of a cold New York winter would certainly put just about any of them in a hospital emergency room.
They managed less than five hours of sleep before they were up and at it again. Searching the streets for one child may have been difficult in the dark, but in the sea of people walking around in the morning, it was impossible.
They stopped their search at eight in the morning so they could meet Clive at the courthouse for the emergency hearing he’d managed to have placed on the calendar the day before.
Clive took one look at Rachel’s disheveled state and frowned. “It’s always better to show up in court looking your best,” he told her.
She stepped toward him, her lips in a straight line. “We have been searching for Owen from the minute he went missing. Wearing a skirt and a smile isn’t my priority.”
Clive held up his hands, lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I know. I just want you to win this so there is no reason to return here.”
Jason grasped her hand in his and felt her squeeze. “How is this going to go?” he asked Clive.
“There are eight cases being heard today.”
“What number are we?” Rachel asked.
“Six.”
“When will we be called?”
“I can’t predict that. The cases could go quickly, if in fact the families before us have come to some agreement and the judge signs and pushes papers, or there could be witness calling procedures that push us until the afternoon.”
“So I have to wait here while Owen is out there somewhere?”
Clive looked to both of them. “That’s the way this works.”
Rachel released Jason’s hand and started to walk in circles.
“Hey, hey,” he said, trying to calm her down. “Glen and Trent are still out there. Glen found a private investigator who is an expert on teenage runaways. Ford’s parents are joining the search once school is out.” She looked away, and he ducked to make her meet his eyes. “We’re going to find him.”
She held it together and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Jason folded her into his arms and listened to her strangled breathing. He was grateful that she didn’t start crying again.
Clive sighed. “Okay, I’m going to speak with the Colemans’ attorney. I need you two to stay close.”
The mention of the Colemans’ name had Rachel’s head off Jason’s shoulder and searching the lobby.
Although Jason had never met the Colemans, they were easy to spot when Rachel’s hatred landed on the couple.
Owen described them perfectly. The hag had pretentiousness written all over her, and the husband looked embarrassed to be there.
Jason had to physically hold Rachel back.
“That is only going to make things worse.”
He turned her in the opposite direction and listened to her mutter under her breath about the couple while he grabbed them both a cup of coffee.
Thirty minutes later Clive joined them again.
“Well?”
Clive shook his head. “They won’t see reason. Mr. Yanez told me they believe you know exactly where Owen is and this is all an orchestrated plot to convince the court to leave him with you.”
“Orchestrated . . .” Rachel pounded her fist on the cafeteria table. “How dare they.”
“That’s outrageous,” Jason said.
“Outrageous or not, we will have to prove they’re wrong.”
“I thought the law was centered around being innocent until proven guilty.”
Jason was pretty sure Clive laughed.
“You said you had a video?”
Rachel produced Owen’s phone. Clive watched the video and wrote a few notes on his legal pad. He asked questions about the night before and the discussions with Lionel and Ford. There was some relief because those stories could be substantiated by a third and fourth party and therefore wouldn’t be thrown out.
“That’s what he told us,” Ford told them.
“Can’t blame the kid for not wanting to go back,” Ford’s father added. “He could have stayed with us.”
“I told him that,” said Ford. “But he thought the cops would just take him back there.”
The lead officer shook his head. “Not if there is evidence of abuse.”
“There wasn’t any abuse at Rachel’s house,” Ford argued.
“I hear ya, kid. I don’t always like my job.” He turned to Rachel. “Is there anything else in this that offers any clue?”
They watched the video twice more. “No.” She wished there was.
The officers thanked Ford and his family and asked them to call if they heard from Owen, and then the family walked out onto the frozen sidewalk.
“Now what?” Rachel asked the officers.
“We’ll give Owen’s picture to the local police and NYPD and have him taken in if they see him.”
She waited for an and. When her stare was met with silence, she said it herself. “And?”
“He’s a runaway.”
“What does that mean?” Jason asked.
“Teenage runaways aren’t anything new. We put them in the database, pick them up when we find them, and return them home.”
“But you don’t look for them?” Outrage rested behind Rachel’s question.
“Miss Price, have you seen the streets of Manhattan? They are filled with teenage runaways from all over this country. I’m sorry. You seem like a nice lady, you obviously care about this boy.”
“I’m the only family he knows.”
“We understand. But there really isn’t anything we can do at this point. If he contacts you, tell him to come home.”
“He was forced to leave my home.”
“Let him know that if Ford’s parents are okay with him staying there for a while, until your custody matters are resolved, most of the time the social workers will approve. Especially in light of the physical abuse he seems to have suffered from the foster care facility.”
Jason held her close. “And in the meantime?”
“You might try searching his social media or search his Internet history. He might have looked at places to go before giving up his phone. And pray Owen was speaking the truth in his video about his mother not raising a fool.”
The officers gave her their contact information before pulling out of Ford’s driveway.
Rachel shivered, realizing for the first time that it had started to snow.
“Let’s go back to my house,” Jason suggested.
“I’m going into the city to look for him.”
Jason stood in front of her. “Let’s go back to my house and strategize. See if we can pinpoint where Owen might have gone. Officer Bailey was right. Owen might have looked something up on the Internet that can clue us in. We’ll get some help and go search for him together and cover more ground than what the two of us can do alone.”
Her teeth chattered. Much as she wanted to leave right then, what Jason said made sense.
Jason forced her into a hotel after two in the morning.
Nathan stayed behind at the estate and checked Rachel’s house twice just in case Owen went home. Glen and Trent took the uptown and downtown subways, searching the stations. Mary and Monica spent their time on the phone, calling shelters and hospitals, although Jason wasn’t about to tell Rachel about the hospital search. Yet when Mary mentioned doing it, he agreed. The inch of snow they’d gotten overnight wasn’t something anyone should be sleeping in. He liked to think Owen would be more resourceful; Jason reminded himself that the kid was only fifteen. Underestimating the power of a cold New York winter would certainly put just about any of them in a hospital emergency room.
They managed less than five hours of sleep before they were up and at it again. Searching the streets for one child may have been difficult in the dark, but in the sea of people walking around in the morning, it was impossible.
They stopped their search at eight in the morning so they could meet Clive at the courthouse for the emergency hearing he’d managed to have placed on the calendar the day before.
Clive took one look at Rachel’s disheveled state and frowned. “It’s always better to show up in court looking your best,” he told her.
She stepped toward him, her lips in a straight line. “We have been searching for Owen from the minute he went missing. Wearing a skirt and a smile isn’t my priority.”
Clive held up his hands, lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I know. I just want you to win this so there is no reason to return here.”
Jason grasped her hand in his and felt her squeeze. “How is this going to go?” he asked Clive.
“There are eight cases being heard today.”
“What number are we?” Rachel asked.
“Six.”
“When will we be called?”
“I can’t predict that. The cases could go quickly, if in fact the families before us have come to some agreement and the judge signs and pushes papers, or there could be witness calling procedures that push us until the afternoon.”
“So I have to wait here while Owen is out there somewhere?”
Clive looked to both of them. “That’s the way this works.”
Rachel released Jason’s hand and started to walk in circles.
“Hey, hey,” he said, trying to calm her down. “Glen and Trent are still out there. Glen found a private investigator who is an expert on teenage runaways. Ford’s parents are joining the search once school is out.” She looked away, and he ducked to make her meet his eyes. “We’re going to find him.”
She held it together and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Jason folded her into his arms and listened to her strangled breathing. He was grateful that she didn’t start crying again.
Clive sighed. “Okay, I’m going to speak with the Colemans’ attorney. I need you two to stay close.”
The mention of the Colemans’ name had Rachel’s head off Jason’s shoulder and searching the lobby.
Although Jason had never met the Colemans, they were easy to spot when Rachel’s hatred landed on the couple.
Owen described them perfectly. The hag had pretentiousness written all over her, and the husband looked embarrassed to be there.
Jason had to physically hold Rachel back.
“That is only going to make things worse.”
He turned her in the opposite direction and listened to her mutter under her breath about the couple while he grabbed them both a cup of coffee.
Thirty minutes later Clive joined them again.
“Well?”
Clive shook his head. “They won’t see reason. Mr. Yanez told me they believe you know exactly where Owen is and this is all an orchestrated plot to convince the court to leave him with you.”
“Orchestrated . . .” Rachel pounded her fist on the cafeteria table. “How dare they.”
“That’s outrageous,” Jason said.
“Outrageous or not, we will have to prove they’re wrong.”
“I thought the law was centered around being innocent until proven guilty.”
Jason was pretty sure Clive laughed.
“You said you had a video?”
Rachel produced Owen’s phone. Clive watched the video and wrote a few notes on his legal pad. He asked questions about the night before and the discussions with Lionel and Ford. There was some relief because those stories could be substantiated by a third and fourth party and therefore wouldn’t be thrown out.
