All of the above is the only option.
No matter what happens, this story is about to get very public, very quickly. Everyone needs to be on board because the media is going to be all over them from the moment they hear. Everyone loves a reconciliation, especially involving missing kids.
In the end, it is her sister’s number she dials first.
Lauren sounds as bleary as Juliet feels.
“I’m so sorry, did I wake you?”
“Not exactly,” Lauren says, the yawn imminent. “You sound like you were up all night, too.”
“I was. Listen, are you alone? We need to talk.”
“I am. Jasper’s gone to get breakfast.”
“Mindy didn’t take it well?”
A ghost of a laugh. “She didn’t take it well, no. She took it with hope, and grace, and excitement, and then fear and anger. If it wasn’t her lifeline, I would have been insulted. She was practically vibrating with the idea that she was someone else’s kid, then she attacked me for holding out on her.”
“Sounds like a perfectly normal reaction, considering the situation.”
“She’s no dummy, Juliet. She knows a cure might be out there.”
“And that’s what she was excited about, Lauren. She loves you and Jasper. Nothing will change that.”
“We’ll see.” Her sister’s bitterness is surprising. Just you wait, sister.
Juliet takes a deep breath. “I need to talk to you about Mindy’s lineage.”
“You make her sound like a horse.”
“Stop, okay? I think I might have found her father.”
The silence from Lauren is deafening.
“Are you still there?”
Finally, “Yes. Who is it?”
“A man named Zachary Armstrong. He’s from Nashville.”
Her sister curses, short and mean.
“Wow, Lauren. Language.”
“Where did you hear that name?”
Juliet senses this is important. That she must tread carefully. She doesn’t want to start another fight between Jasper and Lauren. But she also doesn’t want to tell Lauren she ran the DNA without permission, so she risks the other half of the truth.
“Jasper mentioned you’d looked him up. How do you know him, Lauren?”
“I don’t know him.”
“But you were looking him up the other night.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Jasper said—”
“I wasn’t looking him up personally. There’s an old case—it’s Castillo. I started wondering about her. I haven’t thought about all of this in years, Juliet. I never thought it would come up.”
“You already know Mindy is his daughter?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“But you know about the case?”
“I remembered something, that’s all. About a child who was stolen. We used to live in Nashville. I look at the news from there sometimes.”
“Well, when you looked, did you find him? Because I did. And Mindy is a dead ringer for him and his wife.”
A little gasp of air.
Juliet tries again. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be confrontational. But you’re not telling me everything. How do you know this man? How do you know about his missing child?”
“I told you, I don’t know him. Of course I don’t. And I don’t know anything about the case. Like I said, I was thinking about Dr. Castillo, wondering if what she did wasn’t as aboveboard as she claimed. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I’d look for missing children from the year Mindy was born, and I saw that Armstrong case. It caught my eye because of the Nashville connection. I didn’t remember hearing about it. I clicked on the story, then Jasper interrupted me. I haven’t even had time to look at it again.” Silence. “You think Mindy is their child?”
“I know she is. After I saw the case was unsolved, I had legal leeway. I ran the DNA. It’s a match. Your Dr. Castillo was in a darker business than you ever knew.”
“Oh, my God. Juliet. I can’t...what do we do?”
“I have to approach this Armstrong guy. I can only imagine he’s gotten his hopes up a lot over the years, and this will be a huge thing for him to take in. Plus, we need to think about the long-term effects of this. Especially on Mindy’s mental health. The media—”
“Go. Do it. Oh my God, Juliet, if you’ve found Mindy’s parents, you have to tell them, and get them here, right now. We’ll deal with the fallout later. Mindy is getting sicker by the day. We need a cure.”
“The wife is dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. How terrible. But if the father is alive—”
“You didn’t read the whole story?”
“I told you, I’d only just started looking when Jasper interrupted me.”
“The wife was murdered, and the daughter was taken from their home.”
A full-blown gasp this time.
“You aren’t serious.”
“I am. Whoever took their baby stabbed the wife. The husband was out of town. When he got home, his wife was dead, and his baby was missing.”
“My God, Juliet. That is horrible.” She pauses, and the whole tenor of her voice changes. “And wonderful. This is wonderful! I don’t mean to be selfish, and I am very sorry about the situation, but if there’s a chance this man can help us save Mindy’s life? There’s no time to lose. He might have more children. He might be a match himself.”
The joy in her sister’s voice puts some of Juliet’s worries to rest. “I agree. I wanted to get your permission to contact him.”
“You have it.” Lauren goes quiet again. “That poor woman, murdered.”
“It’s tragic. I’ll be in touch. Hang in there, Lauren. We’ll get this sorted out. You guys have to be prepared, though. As soon as people know Mindy is the lost Armstrong baby, it’s going to be national news in an instant.”
Lauren sighs heavily. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get there, okay?”
39
NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE
The logistics are easy enough. There is a direct flight to Nashville leaving at 9:35 a.m. Juliet books the flight online, cringing at the last-minute full-fare price, then tosses a couple of things in a bag—toothbrush, change of clothes, brush, laptop—and opens her Uber app and orders a car. They make it to the airport in record time.
She doesn’t call Woody. Not yet.
She knows it’s dumb, and that she’ll probably get taken to task, but there is something inside her that says, Wait, talk to the man first, break the news gently. Get him to Colorado, and then you can tell Woody.
Her mind is racing, but she puts the thoughts aside and takes advantage of the flight to catch some shut-eye. She is exhausted and falls asleep quickly, her head pillowed on her jacket against the hull of the plane. She wakes as they land in Nashville, the wheels screeching onto the tarmac, jolting her upright.
She has all of Armstrong’s contact information, which has been easy to find with a quick database search. Climbing in another car, she tells the driver, a young woman this time, to head to Vanderbilt University.
“School’s on break, so traffic is light. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Wait, they’re on break?”
“That’s right.”
“Then take me to this address instead. I might need you to stick around for a few if my meeting is canceled.” She curses herself for not checking these things first. All she had thought about was getting to Armstrong immediately, assuming, because he is a professor, he could be found on campus. You’re a hell of an investigator, Juliet. This is why they keep you in the lab.
They chat a bit, driving through the city, which is covered in cranes; there seems to be construction on every corner. Before she knows it, the driver is winding up a leafy green hill and pulling up in front of a starkly modern house, a glass rectangle perched on the side of the hill. There is a black four-door Jeep Wrangler in the driveway.
Has she just gotten lucky?
“Hang tight for a minute?” she asks the driver.
“Sure thing.”
Juliet marches up the steep driveway, onto the covered porch, and rings the bell.
Nothing. Silence.
Damn.
She tries again, though she knows it’s futile. Despite the car in the drive, the house feels empty.