Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [52]
The traffic started to move, and she accelerated.
She had a new destination in mind.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“Hey, Dad,” Ellen said, closing the front door behind them.
“Pops!” Will raised his arms to her father, revitalized after his long nap in the car. Given the traffic, it had taken over an hour to get to West Chester.
“My little buddy!!” Her father’s face lit up, his hooded eyes alive with animation. “What a nice surprise! Come here, you!” He reached for Will, who jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around him like a little monkey.
“Dad, careful of your back,” Ellen said, though her father looked fine, his face only slightly red.
“Are you kiddin’? This makes my day! I missed my grandson!”
Will hung on tight. “Pops, I went down the big hill!”
“Tell me all about it,” her father said, carrying Will into the living room. Ellen took off her hat and coat, set them on the chair, and looked around. The rug was rolled up, leaving a dull yellow square on the hardwood floor, and cardboard boxes sat stacked all over.
“We only went down the hill one time, and Mommy wouldn’t let us go down again.” Will held up an index finger while her father set him down, then unzipped his coat, tugged it off, and tossed it aside, leaving the sleeves inside out.
“Why wouldn’t she, Willy Billy?”
“She said it was too big.”
“She’s so mean!” Her father stuck his tongue out at Ellen, which sent Will into gales of laughter.
“Hope this isn’t a bad time.” She gestured at the boxes. “Did we catch you in the middle of packing?”
“Nah.” Her father carried Will over to the couch and sat with him in his lap. “Barbara did all that. She’s finished for today.”
“You didn’t put the house up yet, did you? I didn’t see a sign.”
“Nah, but it’ll go fast. Frank Ferro was asking me about it already.” Her father gestured to a small cardboard box on top of the TV. “That one has some things from your mother, pictures and whatnot. You might want to take it home.”
“Sure, thanks,” Ellen said, caught off-balance at the notion of Barbara, packing her mother into a box.
“Where’s my Thomas the Tank Engine?” Will asked, looking around in bewilderment. The toy box that had been tucked in the corner was gone.
“I got the horse right here,” her father answered. He got up, took Will by the hand, and crossed him to a large cardboard box, with the top flaps open. “Look inside, cowpoke. The gang’s all here.”
“My truck!” Will dug in the box, pulled out a red truck, and knelt and zoomed it back and forth on the floor, where its hard plastic tires made a satisfyingly rumbling sound.
Ellen said, “Will, I’m going to talk to Pop in the kitchen.”
“Be right back, pal,” her father said, straightening up, and they went into the kitchen, where her father leaned against the counter and faced her. He crossed his arms in a pale yellow golf sweater and khakis, with a smile. “God love that kid.”
“I know.”
“He got so big! He grows like a weed.”
“He sure does.”
“You gotta bring him over more, El. Barbara’s dyin’ to meet him.”
“I will.”
“He’s so much smarter than her grandkids. They hardly talk, and him, you can’t shut up!”
Ellen laughed, marveling at the emotion Will always brought out in her father. He became a different man when Will was around, and she loved it. Just not now. She had called him for a reason. “Dad, I need to talk to you.”
“Sure. Right. What’s on your mind, kiddo?”
“This is going to sound strange, so prepare yourself.” Ellen lowered her voice, though Will was out of earshot. “What if I told you that Will might really be a boy named Timothy Braverman, who was kidnapped from a family in Florida, two years ago?”
“What?” Her father’s eyes widened, and Ellen filled him in quickly, starting with the white card, going through to the composite drawing, and ending with the visits to Gerry and Cheryl. They were interrupted twice by Will, and Ellen sent him back to the toy box with a foil bag of potato chips, always a handy bribe.
“So, what do you think?” she