More Than It Seems Read online

  Hank watched him for a moment. "You know, she doesn’t want your son to be dead any more than you do, Steve. She just needs peace of mind, closure. I know," he raised a hand to stall Steve's protests, "that you can’t get closure until you have your son back or know for sure that he’s gone. But Edith has accepted that Scott isn’t going to be coming back. I think you need to do the same, old buddy."

  "Okay."

  Hank blinked in surprise and narrowed his eyes at Steve. “Just like that? Seriously?”

  "Let's say I do accept that. Then what? What changed? I'd still want to find the one who took him, so that he could be put behind bars—or, if I’m going to be honest, so that I can have my own justice. Even then, I'd still be working the case, just without the extra motivation of hoping to find Scott alive. Who is that going to help?"

  Hank took a deep breath and let it out. "Chief Kelly called me this morning," he said simply. Steve turned his head to face him. "He wants you to stop working this case. He suggested that you hand it off to someone else in the department. He thinks you're too close, too involved."

  Steve snorted. "Give it to somebody else?" he asked. "Who? Who’s going to work on this without stopping, when the case gets old? You know as well as I do, Hank, nobody is going to put the effort into this that it is going to take to find out who took my son. Nobody but me."

  "I don't know," Hank said mildly. "Maybe you’re right, but right now, all you’re doing is spinning your wheels. Steve, if you don’t pull yourself together and come back to work, you’re not even going to have a job."

  "Look, Hank, I’m doing the best I can. Chief Kelly, you, none of you know what it feels like to be in my position. I’m doing the best I can possibly do."

  "I'll take that as a 'no' to passing off the case." It was not a question, and Steve didn't bother to reply. "Have you at least thought about taking the early retirement you were offered?"

  "I'm too young to go into retirement," Steve said, waving a hand in dismissal.

  "That's why it was called 'early retirement'."

  Steve paused and finally turned to face Hank again. "I've thought about it. I've also thought about writing a book on the proper analysis of crime scene data, but I’m not going to be able to do either until I know what happened to Scott."

  "Right." Hank exhaled. "Thought so." He paused before broaching the next topic. "I actually came by for another reason," he said cautiously.

  Steve slowly turned and gave Hank his full attention. His friend kept his eyes locked on the framed picture that Scott drew as he continued. "The lab finally came back with the results of the DNA test they did on the blood sample from the window."

  Steve stared at him intently, his eyes wide, his lips trembling. "And?" he asked nervously. "What were the results? Was it—was it Scott's?"

  Hank shook his head slowly. "No, it wasn’t his,” he said. “Unfortunately, we don’t know whose it was. The lab couldn't find a match in the DNA database."

  "Two months of waiting and we still got nothing?" Steve said bitterly. "Why'd it take them so damn long?"

  Hank shrugged. "They were in the middle of changing some of their procedures, getting new staff. The state crime lab is trying to come up with a system that will be able to identify samples quicker. Won't do any good if they aren't in the system, of course."

  "Great," Steve mumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Once again, we've got absolutely nothing."

  "Steve," Hank started up again, "I've already told you that Chief Kelly wanted you off the case. What I didn't tell you was that he anticipated your reaction. He said he’s going to give you two more months, but only because he knows how important it is to you. That’s all, though, no more time after that."

  "Two months?" Steve repeats. "Really?"

  Hank's mouth twitched. "He had to pull some strings," he said. "But after two months, you have to give it up, let somebody else take a shot at it, Steve. You won't have a choice anymore." With that, Hank pushed himself out of the chair and walked out the door.

  Steve stood there for a moment longer before turning around and studying the notes and photos once more.

  TWELVE

  A Year Later

  Steve gritted his teeth, but somehow he managed to keep the biting irritation that flooded through him from seeping into his voice or onto his features as he struggled to breathe out evenly. He achieved it surprisingly well.

  "I'm asking for one more look," he reasoned. "That's it. Just one more look, just in case you—in case I missed anything the first time I looked it over."

  Before the detective across from him was able to voice the poorly-concealed irritation he was obviously feeling, the two were interrupted by a third presence.

  "I’ll take this," Hank Nestor said, discreetly tapping the cold-case detective on the shoulder as a signal to leave. The man did so immediately, his face clearly bearing an expression of relief as he made a rapid departure.

  Steve frowned at the retreating figure's back, his eyes troubled. "That new detective doesn’t have a clue how to do his job," he said.

  Hank raised an eyebrow and looked at him closely. "That 'new detective' has been here almost a year. He was the guy who took your place on the task force. He’s pretty good, too, if you want my honest opinion. I'm sure he'd be more polite toward you if you showed up around here every now and then." Nestor shifted and eyed Steve critically. "You took a sabbatical, Steve, and you almost never come in anymore. The last time had to be at least six weeks ago, and that was just to try to force Chief Kelly to give you authority over the investigation, which you know he can’t do."

  Steve didn't deny what Hank said, but he stood his ground. "I still work here. I'm still a damned detective, and I have the right to help out with an investigation if I feel that the case is going nowhere."

  "You do," Hank agreed. "But that's not why you came back here now. Maybe that's what you told yourself, but it was not the truth."

  "So then what was the truth?" Steve challenged him, leaning back against a nearby desk.

  Hank thought about how to answer. "It’s been over a year," he said quietly. "More than a year since Scott was taken. I know it was his seventh birthday a couple weeks ago. Do you think maybe that's what caused this sudden desire to look through the case file again, even though the cold case team hasn’t had any success?"

  Steve was silent for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought about it. "I haven't read over the case in a few months," he said carefully, thinking out every word before it left his mouth. "I think that if I looked over it again, it might be like looking at it with fresh eyes—even though that approach didn't work last time." He shot a half-hearted glare at the man. "What could it hurt?"

  Hank's eyes widened. "It could hurt you," he said plainly. "Bringing it up again, going through all the emotions again. That can’t be healthy, Steve." He sighed. “But...”

  "But?" Steve prompted.

  "But," Hank said, "I suppose, if you're determined about this, I couldn't stop you. Even if I could, I probably wouldn't. Just wait here."

  Steve nodded and Hank left to retrieve a copy of the case file. Steve didn’t really expect to find anything new, but there was always a faint chance that something had been discovered since he had last looked at it.

  It only took a few minutes for Hank to return with the file. He handed it over to Steve and watched him head for home, promising to inform Nestor immediately if he figured out anything new—no matter how unlikely that scenario was.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Steve studied the file, but didn't bother the actual active case. Hank would let him know of any important leads, but those were few and far between. Steve tried to keep himself from diving completely into the case, and even tried to occupy his mind with other things. He gave serious thought to writing a book, but his mind kept straying back to his son and the case, and his concentration was easily ruined.

  Something about the case—other than the obvious—irritated
him. He felt like he was missing something, a key factor that would enable him to untangle everything and find his son—hopefully alive.

  Another month passed, and then another. As each one went by, that hope faded a bit more. Finally, there was no hope left, and Steve accepted the inevitable.

  Scott Beck was dead. His little boy was gone.

  Once he finally accepted it, Edith came home. They comforted each other, and eventually life returned to something similar to normal.

  * * *

  The Present

  Steve answered the door and held it open for Sam. “Come on in,” Steve said. He led Sam into the living room and offered him a chair, then took one for himself. “Edith is out with a couple of her friends for the evening. What’s up, Sam?”

  Sam took his seat and remained quiet for a moment, and Steve could sense the hesitation. He waited silently, certain that Sam would speak when he was ready. Finally, Sam looked up at him.

  “Steve, you know about Beauregard,” Sam said. “Right?”

  “Yes,” Steve said, nodding cautiously. “Your mother-in-law’s friendly ghost, right?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Sam said. “I’m sure I’ve told you before, but in all the years since I first met Indie and her mother, Beauregard’s predictions have never been wrong. I literally can’t tell you how many times one of his predictions has either saved my life or cracked the case for me, so I’ve learned to pay attention when he speaks. You can understand that, right?”

  “Of course,” Steve said, looking at him closely. “Go on, Sam.”

  Sam let out a sigh. “Steve, Beauregard says the remains we found are not those of your son Scott. He says he’s absolutely certain of that, and he insisted that I tell you right now, but there’s more.” There was another few seconds of hesitation before Sam went on. “Steve, I think there is a distinct possibility that Kenny Givens may be your son.”

  It was Steve’s turn to sit silently, and he continued for several seconds. “What makes you think that, Sam?” he asked slowly.

  “A number of things. First, when I spoke to Kenny today, he told me that another boy was brought in while he was being held in that cellar, and Jensen commented that they could be twins. Indie dug up photos of Kenny and Scott from back then, and they were almost identical. On top of that, I have a story that Kenny Givens wrote as a kid, where he talks about how a little boy he called Scooby met another little boy named Kenny in that same type of situation. Kenny was only there for a short time, and then he disappeared, and Scooby began calling himself Kenny so that he wouldn’t forget his friend.”

  “Scooby…” Steve said, his eyes wide. “My God, Sam, that was my little nickname for Scotty. Scooby Doo was his favorite cartoon show, and he had a stuffed Scooby that he insisted on sleeping with every night. It just became kind of normal to call him Scooby every now and then.”

  “I suspected as much,” Sam said. “When Kenny wrote the story, the main boy was called Scooby. I don’t know for certain, yet, Steve, and even Beauregard says he isn’t sure if this is correct, but I think it’s worth looking into.”

  Steve nodded slowly. “Kenny Givens was the boy who turned up alive, right?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “I talked with his father today—the man who raised him, anyway, and he claims that Kenny was just released and dropped off at their old house, which is where he found him. He says he just happened to be driving by and spotted Kenny sitting on the front steps.”

  “Do you think he was telling the truth?” Steve asked. “I’m having a little trouble believing it was that simple, myself.” Sam noticed that his eyes were moist.

  “Yes, I thought it was unusual. Apparently, so did the police who investigated back in the day, but they never found anything to suggest that it wasn’t true. Givens took the boy to the police station after he found him, and they insisted he be taken to the hospital to be checked out. Nowhere in all of that did anyone suspect he might be the wrong child.”

  “Why would they?” Steve asked. “In a situation like that, Sam, everyone would just be blown away that the boy was recovered alive and healthy. Still, you would think his parents would know.”

  “And if this is correct, I suspect they did. The thing is, Steve, not everybody is emotionally stable. I think there’s a good possibility that they may have known that it wasn’t their real son, but accepted the substitution as a way to assuage their grief.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Steve said. “I don’t think I could have accepted another child in Scotty’s place, but the truth is that I can’t know for sure what I would’ve done in that situation.” Steve shook his head. “What’s the next step, Sam?”

  “The only way to be certain will be with a DNA test,” Sam said. “However, I think it might be advisable for the two of us to pay Mr. Givens another visit in the morning. I think we might cut through a lot of the fog if we simply ask him point-blank.” He leaned close and laid a hand on Steve’s arm. “We’ll still need a DNA test to be absolutely certain, but I have a feeling this is going to prove out correct, Steve.”

  Steve nodded his head again, more slowly than before. “My gut is telling me the same thing,” he said. “I’m not going to say anything to Edith just yet. The last thing in the world I need to do is get her hopes up and then have it turn out that we are wrong, you know?” He looked up at Sam. “You really think it’s going to be a good idea for me to go with you?”

  “Why not?” Sam asked. “Steve, if we are correct, there’s a pretty good chance that Lou Givens could be the man who killed Jensen. He was considered a potential suspect back then, because his son was thought to be the only one recovered alive. If the boy remembered details that led Givens back to Jensen, it wouldn’t be that hard to believe that he might have gone after the preacher.”

  Steve just looked at him for a moment, then ran a hand over his face. “The thing is, Sam,” he said, “I don’t get why Scotty would go along with it. I mean, he was only a little boy, but don’t you think he would’ve realized that those weren’t his parents? Don’t you think he would have said that to somebody, or given the hospital his real name?”

  Sam bit his bottom lip for a second. “I considered that myself, Steve, but we don’t know what kind of circumstances he may have had to endure with Jensen. I think it’s quite possible he may have been so traumatized that he wasn’t sure who he was anymore. If he had somehow identified with the little boy whose name was Kenny, and if he had been through enough trauma to affect his memories, then I have to assume that it’s possible he was unable to offer any coherent information. All we know from the files is that he kept saying he didn’t know where he had been or who had him. He just kept talking about a dark place and ‘the bunny man.’ That’s all they got from him at the time.”

  Steve sat silently for a couple of moments, and then looked at Sam again. “I think you should go alone,” he said. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to be there if Givens admits to this. I don’t mean the killing, I could completely understand that; I’m talking about if he were to admit that he knew that wasn’t really his kid.” He blinked back tears. “I’m not sure I could keep myself together, Sam.”

  Sam looked at his old friend for a moment, then nodded his acceptance. “Okay,” he said. “In that case, I want you to take tomorrow off. Just stay home, and I’ll call you as soon as I know something. Either way, I’m going to try to make arrangements for Kenny to give a DNA sample. Crawford labs can tell us within a couple of hours whether he’s your son or not.”

  Steve nodded. “And what do I do if he is, Sam? How do I make up for twenty-five years? How do I admit to him that I gave up looking for him?”

  “He strikes me as a pretty intelligent young man, Steve. I doubt he would hold it against you, but at least it would give him the chance to get to know his real parents. He deserves that chance, don’t you think?”

  Steve looked at him. “But do I? Do I deserve it? I gave up looking, Sam. I thought he was dead, s
o I just gave up. Something inside me kept telling me that he was alive, but I let the logic sway me. Everybody kept reminding me that children who weren’t found in the first few days were rarely recovered alive, and I ended up swallowing it.”

  “And that makes you no different than anyone else, Steve. Nobody can hold on that long, not without some evidence that there’s still hope. Your gut is pretty powerful, but it’s not enough to keep anybody hanging on for more than two decades.”

  Steve fell silent again, and they sat there like that for a couple of minutes. Finally, he looked up at Sam once again. “Who will you take with you?” he asked.

  Sam sat there for a couple of seconds, then broke into a grin. “I think I’ll take Summer,” he said. “She seems to be pretty good getting the truth out of a man.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a long, slim plastic envelope. He popped it open and pulled out a long handled cotton swab, then grinned at Steve again. “Open wide.”

  Steve looked at the swab in his hand, then opened his mouth. Sam reached in and rubbed the swab along the interior of his cheek, then slipped it back into the envelope and sealed it.

  “Can’t run a DNA test without a sample to compare against. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  THIRTEEN

  "Summer and I are going back to talk to Givens again,” Sam said when they had all gathered at the office again the following morning. He had only told the rest of them that Steve was taking the day off for personal reasons. “I have reason to believe he knows more about this case than he’s letting on, but I’m going to keep that to myself for the moment. In the meantime, I want the rest of you to start digging for any other connection between Givens and Jensen. My gut says there is something to find, and I may need it before this is over.”