Chapter Ninety-five

Ellen filed into the conference room with Ron behind her and took her seat at the table across from Cusack. Bill had deserted his chair but was standing by the window, his arms folded and his expression grim. Ellen saw the strain around his eyes and knew that he was more anguished than angry, and her heart went out to him.

Cusack began, "We've decided, in a spirit of cooperation, to undertake a DNA test. The FBI has recommended a lab that it uses all the time, and we'll be taking the samples of Bill and Timothy tonight."

"We'll fast-track it," Special Agent Manning interjected. "We should have the results by Monday."

Ellen felt her heart pounding but didn't show any emotion, for Bill's sake.

Cusack continued, "However, we don't believe it's necessary to place Timothy in protective custody with the Bureau, pending the results. Timothy is at the Four Seasons with a babysitter that comes highly recommended. Bill would like to keep the boy with him at the hotel and he won't leave the jurisdiction. We trust you'll agree." Cusack fell silent, awaiting Ellen's response.

So did Bill, by the window, his arms folded, and Ron, who cocked his head, his smile characteristically gentle.

"What do you want to do, Ellen?" he asked. "You can leave him with Bill until the tests come back, or the FBI can make him comfortable in a hotel."

Special Agent Manning added, "The Four Seasons isn't in our budget." He chuckled, huh huh, but nobody else did.

Ellen's eyes met Bill's from across the room, and she felt their shared bond. This situation was no-win, at every turn. As for protective custody, it had been Ron's idea. She didn't really want Will to stay with a cop. It only took Ellen a minute to make her decision:

"I trust that Bill will take good care of him, and right now, that's what's best for him. I don't want to disrupt him again if the test is wrong."

"Thanks," Cusack said, and Ron nodded.

But Bill didn't reply, just turned away and gazed out the window into the cold, dark night. He was facing the prospect of losing his son.

And Ellen knew exactly how he felt.

Chapter Ninety-six

A new snow had fallen, covering the minivans, swing sets, and lawn furniture in pristine white. The afternoon sky was sunny and bright blue, and the wind frigid and fresh, as if the deep freeze had killed every last germ, leaving only the healthiest and most wholesome air. Ellen breathed it in, standing on her porch with no coat like a crazy lady, folding her arms against her chest, her hair freshly shampooed, her sweater dry cleaned, and her socks laundered and matching. She even had on new clogs.

"Ellen, we could wait inside," Marcelo said, standing on her right.

"Nah, let's stay here," her father said, on her left.

"I agree," Barbara said, next to her father in her lovely white coat.

Behind them, Connie stood with her husband, Chuck. She said, "Wild horses couldn't drag me off this porch."

They all smiled, Ellen most of all, despite the reporters, TV anchor-persons, and photographers who mobbed the sidewalk in front of her house and spilled into the street, shouting questions, taking videos and pictures, and requiring five uniformed cops to keep traffic moving.

Marcelo smiled, puzzled. "Let me get this straight. It's freezing outside, but we're on the porch?"

"Right," Ellen and her father answered in unison, then they looked at each other.

"Great minds," her father said, and Ellen laughed.

Marcelo threw an arm around her shoulder. "You know what? I like it."

"Good," she said, snuggling against him.

Suddenly a black sedan turned onto the street, and Ellen felt her heart start to thunder. She stepped forward for a closer look, and the sedan slowed when it reached the photographers, who started hoisting video cameras to their shoulders. The sedan's emergency lights went on, flashing yellow as it braked in front of the house.

"My God," Ellen said under her breath, already in motion, and the press surged forward, pointing their cameras and microphones to the sedan. The doors were opening, and Bill emerged from the driver's side and Cusack from the passenger's. Reporters swarmed them with cameras and microphones, and Ellen ran down the front walk toward the crowd, and in the next instant she heard a little voice from its center.

"Mommy! MOMMY!"

"WILL!" Ellen shouted, tears blurring her eyes as she hit the crowd and elbowed her way through, reaching the sedan just as Bill unlatched Will from the car seat and carried him through the crazed reporters to her.

"MOMMY!" Will screamed, his arms reaching for her, and Ellen took him in her arms and hugged him so tightly she almost squished him.

"It's all right, it's all right now," she said, as Will burst into tears and wrapped his arms around her neck. Reporters shouted questions and stuck cameras in their faces, but Ellen caught Bill's eye, and his expression was pained. She called to him, "Want to come in, have a soda?"

"No thanks," Bill called back, then gestured vaguely at W. "I got him new shoes."

"Thanks." Ellen felt a stab of sympathy. "Another time, then?"

"See you," Bill said, his eyes on Will's back. Grief flickered through his expression, then he turned away amid the clicking cameras, and so did Ellen, with a guilt that vanished in happiness when Marcelo, her father, and Chuck arrived at her side and ran interference as she hurried back up her front walk, hustled across the porch to the open front door, and swept inside the warm, snug house.

Will didn't touch the ground until half an hour later, after being passed from mother to grandfather to mother to new step grandmother to mother to Marcelo to Connie and Chuck then back again to Ellen, until he had stopped crying and everybody held him tight, kissed him too much, and reassured themselves by feeling his weight in their arms that he was, really, safely, and finally back home.

Ellen felt her heart truly at peace for the first time since she'd first seen that white card, so long ago. She set Will down in the living room, but, oddly, he frowned, even as he stood at the center of an adoring circle. His glistening eyes scanned the room, ignoring the twisted streamers of green crepe, the green helium balloons on the ceiling, and even the pile of wrapped gifts from a love-crazed family.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Ellen asked, puzzled. She reached down and ruffled his soft hair with her fingers. She thought she might never stop touching his hair.

"Where's Oreo Figaro, Mommy?"

"Oh. He was here a minute ago," Ellen answered, looking around, and in the next second, they both spotted the cat under the dining room table, running from all the commotion, a black-and-white blur with a tail like an exclamation point.

"There he goes!" Will hollered, taking off after the cat, who bounded into the kitchen.

"Uh-oh." Ellen went after Will, and everyone watched him, collectively holding their breaths. They had all discussed how he would react to seeing the kitchen again, and she had talked to a child psychologist who'd told her to let Will take the initiative in asking questions. The therapist had also approved her redecorating idea, and she prayed Will would, too. She held her breath when he reached the kitchen threshold.

"Mommy!" Will hollered, surprised. "Look in here!"

"I know, it's a surprise for you." Ellen came up behind him and rested a hand on his head. She and Marcelo had worked in the kitchen all weekend, installing laminated wood over the subfloor and painting the walls to cover the bloodstains. The wall color had been the easiest choice, although when sunlight flooded in through the back window, the room looked like it was growing. She doubted she'd ever get used to a bright green kitchen, nor should she.