She's My Mom Read online

  Brett hadn’t been this distraught—or this insistent—since the memorial service, when he’d blurted, “Couldn’t the blast have thrown her body the way a tornado does, and she landed someplace where no one would think to look for her?”

  Full of fresh anguish, Grady said, “Something happened at dinner to disturb you. Tell me what it is.”

  Brett bit his lower lip. “I saw Mom tonight, Dad. I even called her Mom.”

  Grady exhaled a relieved sigh. So that was what had thrown him into such turmoil. At least this was something they could talk about and deal with. Then they could plan their trip.

  “Do you know I can’t count the number of times I’ve been in a crowd and thought I saw the back of her head? In the beginning, I used to wait until I could see the woman’s face to prove myself wrong. You and I will probably go on doing that for a long time.”

  “You don’t understand. It was Mom. But she didn’t recognize me.”

  A groan escaped Grady’s throat. “That’s impossible. You just saw a woman who reminded you of your mother. You want her to be alive so badly, you’ve talked yourself into believing something that isn’t true.”

  “No. I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” He slid out the other side of the bed and stood up. Fists clenched, he said, “I know what I saw. She’s had her hair cut shorter and dyed brown. All the way home from the hotel, I kept telling myself it was just a lady who looked like her.

  “But the more I thought about it, the more I’m positive no woman could look like that and not be my mom. I got sick because…because she pretended not to know me and didn’t answer me.”

  “Son—”

  “Then I remembered seeing a World War II documentary in my history class. It was about some soldiers who got wounded in battle and suffered amnesia. They didn’t recognize their families after they got home. Except for one of them, the rest couldn’t cope with it and went to live somewhere else.”

  Grady desperately needed some inspiration. If he didn’t respond to this in the right way, there would be no sleep for either of them tonight.

  “Where did you see this woman?”

  “Coming up the stairs.”

  “You mean outside the entrance to the Etoile?”

  “No. After dinner in the restaurant, the elevators in the southeast leg were too crowded. So Mike and I decided to go down the stairs to Mr. Stevens’s van.”

  All twenty-five flights? “Did Mike see her, too?”

  “No. He’d already passed the eleventh floor when this maid with brown hair opened the door and started up the stairs with a stack of towels. As she passed me, we looked at each other.”

  Grady noticed the boy’s throat working.

  “I swear to you, she’s my mom!”

  “Is that what you told Mike?”

  “No. He would’ve told me I was crazy, but I’m not!”

  Brett’s voice rang with conviction, and Grady broke out in a cold sweat. The reason his son didn’t want to leave town immediately was beginning to make a strange kind of sense.

  Forcing himself to calm down, he said, “If this woman looked so much like your mother that you even called her Mom, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to see her again.”

  He blinked. “Then you believe me?”

  “I believe that you believe it. Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll drive over to the hotel. She’s probably still on duty. We’ll find out who she is and talk to her.”

  Just as Grady had predicted, the second he suggested they meet the woman in question, Brett’s expression wasn’t quite as certain as before. He fiddled with the buttons of his pajamas, proving his nervousness.

  “Dad?”

  “I’ll understand if you don’t feel well enough to go tonight,” Grady said reassuringly. “We can always visit her tomorrow.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid,” he whispered.

  “Of what?”

  “That when you see her, you might die of shock or something.”

  The combination of love and fear in his son’s eyes shook Grady to his very foundation.

  “Don’t worry. I just had my department physical and passed without a single problem.”

  “Honest?”

  “Brett,” he said in exasperation. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Nothing’s going to happen to me. Now hurry up and get dressed.”

  “Okay. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Grady left for the master bedroom. It was automatic to put on his shoulder holster first. He never went anywhere without his weapon, whether he was on duty or not.

  To his surprise, his hands were trembling by the time he pulled his suit jacket from the closet and shrugged into it. He hadn’t eaten since lunch. What he needed was food.

  Heading for the kitchen, he made himself a bologna and cheese sandwich. He’d just finished it off with a glass of milk and a banana when Brett joined him. He held something in his hand.

  “What have you got there?”

  “It’s a close-up of Mom with her hair swept back from her face. I’ve got to fix it so the person at the hotel will know which maid we’re talking about.” He opened the junk drawer and pulled out a brown marker.

  Grady watched his son in guarded fascination. Brett drew on the color photo, turning their beautiful blond wife and mother into a brunette with hair to her jaw-line rather than her shoulders.

  When he’d completed his alterations he put the marker back. “Okay. I’m ready.” He handed the picture to his father. “Let’s go.”

  They went out the back door to the car and drove toward the Strip. Maybe it was wrong to indulge Brett like this, but until the matter was settled in his son’s mind, a vacation was out of the question.

  When they met the woman, Brett would realize his mistake and that would be the end of it, thank God. It was time for both of them to move on. A trip to some new place, someplace not associated with Susan, was exactly what they needed.

  As the Etoile came into view, Brett turned to him. “What will we say when they ask why we want to talk to her?”

  Grady had already anticipated his son’s question. “I’ll tell the manager I’m working on a missing-person case.”

  “That’s good, Dad. Especially because it’s not a lie.”

  The change in Brett since he’d come back from dinner made Grady nervous as hell. His son was riding for a fall. First thing in the morning, they were leaving Las Vegas, regardless of Brett’s state of mind.

  After Grady had parked in a “police only” zone near one leg of the arch, he removed his official tag from the glove compartment and hung it on the rearview mirror.

  There was no point in saying “Let’s go.” Brett had already climbed out of the car and was halfway up the steps to the southwest entrance. Grady set the lock with his remote and started after him.

  The familiar sounds of a casino alive with people and slot machines met his ears. “The floor manager’s door is over there on the left,” his son informed him in a loud voice.

  Brett and Mike had been over here a lot visiting Jim while the hotel was under construction. They knew their way around.

  No longer taking the initiative, his son fell into step beside Grady, who maneuvered through the crowd to knock on the manager’s door.

  “Come in.”

  A man seated in front of a computer glanced up at them. “I’m Ken Adair. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Lieutenant Corbitt with the Las Vegas specialized detectives’ division. This is my son, Brett.” They all shook hands.

  Grady pulled out his official ID and showed it to the manager. “I’m following up on a lead in a missing-person case. Earlier tonight Brett saw one of the maids working here who might be the person I’m looking for.

  “He saw her on the stairs between the eleventh and twelfth floors of the southeast leg at approximately 8:00 p.m., carrying some towels.”

  Grady took the picture from his pocket and han
ded it to the manager. “Do you recognize her?”

  The man studied the photograph for a moment. “No.” He shook his head. “But that isn’t surprising. With four thousand rooms, we have a huge staff. I’ll scan this photo into the computer and send it over to the night manager of housekeeping. He’ll know who she is.”

  “Thank you. If I could talk to this woman tonight, it would only take me a minute to ask her a couple of questions. I don’t want to interfere with her work schedule.”

  “We’ll see what we can do. Sit down. Depending on her location, this may take some time. If she’s already gone off duty, then I’ll get you some information on her.”

  Brett flashed Grady a look of gratitude as they found chairs in front of a long rectangular coffee table loaded with magazines. Neither of them reached for one. It was obvious his son was too intent on their mission to concentrate on anything else. As for Grady, he just wanted this whole thing to go away.

  They both watched various employees file in and out of the office. Ten minutes went by before the manager called Grady to his desk.

  “The assistant housekeeping manager is on his way to my office. Hopefully he’ll be able to help you. Before I forget, let me give you back the photo.”

  Grady pocketed it once more, then walked over to Brett to convey the message. His son stood up, looking anxious.

  “Do you think he’ll be bringing Mo—the maid with him?”

  Brett’s slip of the tongue revealed his absolute certainty that Susan was alive. When his son met the strange woman face-to-face and discovered it wasn’t his mother, Grady didn’t know if he’d be able to comfort him.

  “He will if he can,” Grady murmured.

  More employees swept in and out of the office. Each time the door opened, a light appeared in Brett’s eyes, only to be extinguished when the person who came in wasn’t the person he was hoping to see.

  Finally a man entered the room. He chatted with Mr. Adair, then turned toward Grady and Brett. He’d come alone.

  “Lieutenant? I’m Carlos from Housekeeping personnel. I recognized Martha Walters from your photo. I understand she might be the missing person you’re looking for.”

  Grady froze.

  He hadn’t doubted that Brett had seen a woman who resembled Susan. But for this man to be so definite about a match…

  “She’s a very attractive woman,” the assistant manager continued in a confiding voice. “I’ve never been able to figure out why she wanted a maid’s job when she could be a showgirl. She’s really built and has these long legs that go on forever. You know what I mean?”

  Grady had heard enough of the man’s personal opinions. “Did you tell her I wanted to ask her a few questions?”

  “I would have, but she works the one-to-nine shift. By the time my boss caught up with me, she’d already checked in her time card and couldn’t be located. I presume she’s left the hotel. According to the schedule, she won’t be working again until Monday.”

  Tonight was Friday. There was a whole weekend to get through. One glance at Brett, and Grady could tell his son was close to tears.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “You’re welcome. Mr. Adair told me to print off the information from her employment application and give it to you.”

  He reached in the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a folded sheet.

  Maybe all wasn’t lost.

  “Thank you again.” Grady put the paper in his pocket before shaking the other man’s hand. On the way out of the office, he murmured his thanks to Mr. Adair.

  “Come on, Brett. Let’s go.”

  His son needed no urging. They walked slowly through the crowds to the parking area. As soon as he backed out of the space and headed for the exit, Brett said, “Let’s drive to wherever she lives. Maybe she’ll be outside.”

  Grady had started this by offering to take his son to the hotel to meet the woman who looked like Susan. If he wanted any peace, then he had little choice but to see this through.

  He felt in his pocket and handed Brett the paper. “What’s her address?”

  His son reached for it with too much eagerness. After he’d scanned it he said, “She lives at 312 Meadow, apartment five.” He raised his head, frowning. “I’ve never heard of that street.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Grady murmured as he turned in that direction.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s in a lower-income neighborhood at the north end of the Maryland Parkway near the Cash-man Center. Beyond the embankment are some rundown apartments. They’re in bad shape, with broken windows and peeling paint.”

  At this point Grady wasn’t opposed to painting a reality picture for his son. Anything to dampen his hopes about a situation that could only end in more grief and pain.

  But when he glanced at Brett for a reaction, his son was poring over the application and probably hadn’t even heard him.

  “Dad!” he cried out unexpectedly. “Listen to this! She made out this application three weeks after the explos—”

  “Why don’t you give me the paper,” Grady interrupted, trying not to reveal the depth of his frustration. This whole thing was a mistake. So much for parental psychology.

  What he wanted to do was crush the sheet into a wad and toss it out the window. But he couldn’t lose his temper like that in front of Brett. Calling on his last vestige of self-control, he stashed the paper above his sun visor.

  They drove another couple of miles to the rolling curves at the end of the parkway. Grady took the first exit leading to Meadow. If he remembered from his early days as a patrol officer, it was the next street on his left.

  Brett stared out the passenger window. “It’s weird how we’ve lived here all our lives and I’ve never been in this part of town.”

  Grady found Meadow where it was supposed to be and drove to the three-hundred block.

  By now Brett’s expression had sobered. “I thought people who worked in hotels like the Etoile earned good money. Mike’s older brother, Randy, has a job at the Sahara. He just bought a new twenty-thousand-dollar Ducati 996R.”

  “Randy Stevens still lives at home in a Las Vegas Lake mansion. Jim is a millionaire several times over. People like Martha Walters have to survive at the other end of the spectrum. It isn’t easy.”

  “That’s not her real name, Dad.”

  Grady’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. His son was too far gone to listen to reason. If fate was kind, they’d find the woman home, she’d be exactly who she said she was, and this nightmare would stop.

  “If you don’t believe me, check the handwriting on her application. You know how you always teased her that she writes like a little girl because the letters are so far apart and she always makes a circle instead of a dot over the I’s? Well, look at this!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  ANXIOUS TO END THIS once and for all, Grady came to an abrupt halt in front of a small two-story apartment building. If there’d been any landscaping done at the outset, all traces of it had disappeared long ago.

  He shut off the motor and reached for the paper stuck in the visor. After unfolding it, he turned on the map light to see the handwriting for himself. Once he’d proved it only resembled Susan’s, there would be no further need for discussion on the subject.

  But Grady never did get to the written part because the photo in the top-left-hand corner drew his gaze. He looked more closely. Then his world stood still.

  Staring back at him were the eyes and face of the woman he’d loved more than life itself.

  His body quaked.

  It didn’t matter about the hair. Because only an identical twin or a clone could be such a perfect match.

  “Susan—”

  In the background he could hear his son calling to him in a frightened voice, but Grady couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

  Dear Lord.

  His wife was alive!

  He buried his face in his hands, terrified that this was a dream and Bret
t was telling him to wake up.

  “Dad?” His son sounded frantic. “Are you having a heart attack? Dad? Answer me!”

  When Grady felt his son grab his arm and shake him, he finally lifted his head. He was still sitting in his car. They were still parked in front of the apartment. This was no dream.

  He threw his arm around Brett, practically crushing him in the process.

  “You believe me now, don’t you, Dad?”

  “Brett…” His voice shook. “Son…” He hugged him harder, unable to find words.

  “I knew it was Mom. Something must’ve happened to her and she doesn’t remember us or anything. Let’s go get her and take her home.”

  Still deep in shock, Grady didn’t realize Brett was already out of the car until he heard the passenger door slam. The sound brought him back to some semblance of reality.

  He leaped from the driver’s seat and ran after him. “Don’t go in there yet!”

  Brett paused outside the building door until Grady caught up to him. “Why not?”

  Because Grady was no longer simply a grieving husband who’d suddenly found out his wife wasn’t dead.

  The detective part of him had just kicked in, raising dozens of questions for which he had no answers. He didn’t dare make a wrong move. If she was inside, he could only hope her apartment didn’t have a view of the street. And if she hadn’t returned from work yet, he didn’t want her to find them there on her doorstep.

  “We have to talk first. Come on back to the car.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “Please, Brett,” he said quietly. “I have my reasons. Just do as I say. Quickly.”

  The hurt in his son’s eyes devastated Grady. When he got to the car, Brett was already inside, sobbing brokenly.

  Grady started the engine and drove to the next block. After he’d turned the corner, he pulled over to the side of the street behind a parked car whose body had rusted out.

  “Brett—listen to me. As soon as I saw that picture and realized you’d been telling me the truth, I wanted to run in there and throw my arms around your mother as badly as you did,” he began. “Don’t you know that?”

  His son stared at him with a wet face. “Then what stopped you?”