92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [61]
“Of course. It was a little before Christmas. And there’ve been a few press and TV stories since.”
“Yes, and now there’s additional information. According to the coroner’s report, the remains are those of a young man who had Down syndrome. The sheriff asked if any of us remembered a family with a Down syndrome boy.”
“Was someone able to help him?” Ben asked.
Charlotte shook her head. “There was plenty of discussion, and Bess had a vague recollection of a woman with such a child. I do, too, but for the life of me I can’t remember who she was.”
“I’m sure you will in time.”
One of the most annoying effects of aging was this forgetfulness, these infernal memory gaps. The name was there, right on the edge of her consciousness, but it remained just out of reach. This was going to bother her until she came up with it.
“You’ll probably think of it in the middle of the night,” Ben said.
His confidence in her was reassuring.
“After Troy left, Bess and I talked about who it might be. We threw around a few names but none of them felt right. It seems to me the woman was a relative of someone who once lived here—a cousin, aunt or some such. Why can’t I remember?” She tapped the side of her head with her index finger.
Ben sat back in his chair. “Tell me what you do remember and maybe that’ll jog your mind.”
“I know I met the boy once.”
“Just once?”
“Yes, his aunt had him, I believe…At least, that’s what I seem to recall. She complained to me that his mother kept him inside most of the time. The mother, whose name has completely escaped me, was terribly protective of him, sheltering him from just about everyone. She was something of a recluse herself, I believe.”
“When was this?”
Charlotte shook her head. It’d been so many years now…“I can’t say for sure, three or four decades ago. Maybe more. His aunt or whoever it was had taken him to the waterfront park. He was enthralled with it. She said it was probably the first time he’d ever set foot in a park.”
“What were they doing?”
“Even now I can see that boy on the merry-go-round. He was laughing, so happy to be outside in the sunshine.”
Her memory was slowly coming back. Talking about it was helping, just as Ben had suggested.
“Go on,” he urged.
Charlotte closed her eyes. “His aunt seemed delighted by everything he did.” She smiled at the memory, although she couldn’t picture the woman clearly. Oh, why couldn’t she remember her name? “The mother loved that child. The aunt, too. If anything happened to him, I’d stake my life on the fact that neither of them had anything to do with it.”
“But there’s nothing to say this is the same child.”
“I know.” Charlotte nodded. Nevertheless, she suspected it was the same boy. Frowning, she stood.
“Let your mind rest,” Ben said. “The name will eventually come to you.”
He was right, only it was difficult advice to take. She knew this family or had known them at one time, and she kept worrying away at it.
“Didn’t you tell me you wanted to bring Olivia one of the pies?”
“Oh, dear, I’d nearly forgotten.”
“Would you like company?” Ben surprised her by asking.
The spark was back in his eyes, and that encouraged her. “I’d love it.”
“I’ve decided I can’t let my son’s weakness disrupt my life. All I can do is make an effort to be the best grandfather I can.” Ben’s gaze met hers and he took her hand. “Shall we go, my dear?”
He was going to be all right; she was sure of it.
Chapter Eighteen
It was almost the end of his workday—if a cop’s day ever ended. Megan had asked him to stop by the house before he went home, and Troy had agreed. She hadn’t said why, but she’d let him know it was terribly important. Seeing that the last time he’d ignored her request he’d been sucker punched by the news about Faith, he thought he should make at least a token appearance.
The phone rang just as he was leaving the office. He considered not answering but, with a sigh, reached across his desk and grabbed the receiver.
“Sheriff Davis.”
The call was from