Page 3 of Daddy Detectives: Episode 2
My mind is still fixated on the note in my jacket pocket. I’m furious at whoever sent it. It had to be someone from Ian’s past. He’s right—who else would have access to photos of him as a young child? But surely, whoever it is realizes they can’t physically or financially hurt Ian. Embarrass him, perhaps. Humiliate him. Bring back a lot of painful memories, yes. But blackmailing him will do them no good.
He’s not going to meet their demands. I won’t let him. If he gives in to them now, they’ll just keep coming back for more. No. He’s not going to pay them a penny. I’m going to find whoever did this and put a stop to the harassment.
“I need to call your parents,” I say as I throw a burp cloth over my shoulder so I can burp Lizzie. We’ve got a regular supply of burp cloths all over the house now, stacked on every table, every piece of furniture. I pat her back firmly, and she obliges me with a loud burp.
“They’ll be furious,” Ian says.
“I know. But I still need to talk to them. They probably remember more about your birth mom than anyone. They can give me the information I need to track her down.”
“Assuming she’s still alive.”
“Right. In light of that message you received, I’m guessing she is.”
Ian props Will up, supporting him with one hand while he pats our son’s back. “When I look at these babies, I can’t imaginehow a parent could possibly neglect their own child.” After Will lets out a loud burp, Ian resumes feeding him.
A few minutes later, there’s a brisk knock at the back door.
I rise from the couch, holding Lizzie in the crook of one arm. “That must be Kimi. I’ll be right back.”
“You can leave Lizzie with me, if you want. I can feed them both.”
“That’s okay. I can walk and chew gum at the same time.”
As I leave the living room, Ian chuckles. “Show off.”
Sure enough, it is Kimi at the back door. I invite her in.
Immediately, her gaze goes to Lizzie, who’s busy sucking on her bottle. “Oh, my God, she’s so cute!” Then she gets serious as she returns her attention to me. “I just forwarded a clip of the video surveillance footage to your phone. It’s unclear who put the envelope in the mailbox. Whoever it is, they’re wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and a gray hoodie that covers their face.” She holds up her phone, showing me the clip. “They look to be of average height and average weight. No discernable features. I can’t even tell if it’s a man or a woman.”
I watch the entire clip. “Play it again.” Sure enough, there’s not much to go on. The person walked up to our house, so there’s no vehicle or license plate to trace. It’s impossible to tell anything about the person other than general size, which is useless. I’m guessing five-eight, using the mailbox post as a reference. “Thanks, Kimi.”
“Sorry, Mr. J. I know it’s not much to go on. I also did a search for news stories at the time Ian went into foster care, and I found an article about a woman named Rhonda Mitchell who lost custody of a four-year-old son. She was convicted of prostitution, drug possession, and child neglect. Her parental rights were eventually terminated, and she was sentenced to ten years in prison. The unnamed child was sent into the foster care system, and I couldn’t find anything on him after that. Iforwarded you a link to the article. I couldn’t find an obituary on this Mitchell woman, so I’m guessing she could still be alive.”
“Thanks. See what else you can dig up on her—a current address or place of employment would be great. I’m going to go see Ian’s parents tonight to find out what they know about his birth mother. I’m hoping they can fill in some of the details.”
Kimi reaches out to gently brush Lizzie’s hair. “It was hard reading that news article, thinking it might have been Ian they were writing about. The kid was described as malnourished and gaunt. If it really is him, it’s amazing he turned out so well.”
“That’s not even the worst part of it,” Ian says from the kitchen doorway behind us.
I turn to see him standing there, holding Will in the crook of one arm while he holds the baby’s bottle in his free hand.
“The credit goes to the Alexanders. They made sure I had everything I needed—the best therapists, doctors. Everything. They had infinite patience with me. It was exactly what I needed.” His expression seems flat, a bit detached.
Kimi flashes her gaze up at me. “I’ll get back to work now and leave you guys alone.” She catches my eye for a moment. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” And then she lets herself out.
Both babies are done with their bottles, and now that their bellies are full, they’re sleepy. It seems that’s all they do—eat and sleep, rinse and repeat. We carry them upstairs to our bedroom to change their diapers and lay them in their bassinettes.
Ian sits at the foot of our bed and watches over the babies as they doze off for an afternoon nap.
I sit beside him, and when I put my arm around him, he leans into me, resting his head on my shoulder. “I’m going to ask your parents if I can come over tonight to talk to them about your birth mother. Do you want to—”
“Yes! Of course, I’m coming. It’ll be nice to see them, and I know they’ll want to see the babies.”
I head downstairs to call Ian’s mother. Ruth answers almost immediately, but I can tell she’s on the move.
“Hi, Tyler.” She sounds breathless. “What’s up? Sorry, I just left one meeting, and I’m on my way to another.”
“Will you and Martin be home this evening? There’s something Ian and I need to discuss with you.”
