Chapter 2 - THE NAME AROUND HIS NECK
Sheriff Lena Brooks arrived twelve minutes later.
By then, Arthur had wrapped Malik in the emergency blanket from his truck and was sitting with him beneath the open tailgate.
The toddler had stopped screaming, but every few seconds he hiccupped and whispered, “Mama.”
Arthur never let go of him.
Lena stepped out of her patrol SUV and scanned the lake.
She was forty-four, calm-faced, observant, and one of the few people in town who knew exactly who Arthur Johnson was.
“Professor Johnson?”
Arthur nodded.
“I found him in that boat.”
Lena looked toward the water.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see who put him there?”
Arthur hesitated.
“I saw someone in the trees after I brought him back. Woman. Green coat. I couldn't see her face.”
Lena crouched in front of Malik.
“Hey, little man.”
Malik buried his face against Arthur.
Lena's gaze moved to the pendant.
She noticed Arthur's matching necklace.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Related?”
“I don't know.”
That answer sounded absurd even to Arthur.
Lena pointed toward Malik.
“You know the child?”
“No.”
“But you recognize the necklace.”
Arthur looked down.
“Yes.”
He told her about the pendants.
His grandfather, Elijah Johnson, had made them in 1958.
One for each of his children.
Later, new pieces had been commissioned only for direct descendants.
Each pendant contained a tiny identifying mark inside the border.
Arthur's was A-4.
Evelyn's was E-9.
The piece Malik wore was too small for Arthur to see the code without his reading glasses.
He removed them from his pocket and examined the edge.
Then his breath caught.
E-9.
Evelyn's pendant.
Not a copy.
Not another Johnson necklace.
Hers.
Arthur nearly dropped it.
Lena saw his expression.
“What?”
“This belonged to my daughter.”
“The one who disappeared?”
Arthur looked at her.
“You remember?”
“Everyone remembers.”
Three years earlier, Evelyn Johnson Whitmore had vanished after leaving her home late one evening.
Her SUV had been discovered two days later beside a ravine sixty miles north.
The driver's door was open.
Her purse was inside.
There had been blood on the steering wheel, though not enough to prove she had died.
No body was ever found.
The official theory was that Evelyn, emotionally distressed after problems in her marriage, had abandoned the vehicle and possibly entered the river.
Arthur had never believed it.
“You're saying this baby is wearing your missing daughter's necklace?” Lena asked.
“Yes.”
“Could she have given it away?”
“She would never have given that necklace away.”
Malik suddenly shifted.
A tiny photograph fell from inside his sweater.
Arthur picked it up.
It was folded twice.
The image was faded and creased, but the woman in the photograph was unmistakable.
Evelyn.
She was holding a newborn baby.
Arthur stopped breathing again.
On the back, written in blue ink:
For Malik, so you always know Mama loves you.
Arthur covered his mouth.
Lena stood slowly.
“I think we just identified him.”
A vehicle appeared between the trees.
A black SUV came down the gravel road far too fast.
It stopped near the patrol car.
A man jumped out.
Early thirties.
Dark hair.
Gray sweater.
No coat.
Arthur knew him instantly.
Thomas Whitmore.
The man Evelyn had married.
The man Arthur had blamed for her disappearance.
Thomas saw Malik and ran.
“Malik!”
The toddler turned.
“Dada!”
Thomas reached them and pulled his son into his arms.
He kissed Malik's head repeatedly.
“Oh, God. Oh, God, buddy.”
Malik clung to him.
Arthur stood.
Years of anger flooded back.
“You.”
Thomas looked up.
Recognition struck.
“Arthur?”
“Where was your son?”
Thomas stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“I found him in a boat in the middle of the lake.”
Thomas's face drained of color.
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
Lena stepped between them.
“Mr. Whitmore, who had custody of Malik today?”
“My mother.”
Arthur went still.
“What?”
Thomas glanced toward him.
“My mother took him to the lake house.”
“What does she look like?”
Thomas frowned.
“Why?”
“Was she wearing a green coat?”
Silence.
Thomas's expression changed.
Behind them, tires crunched over gravel.
Another vehicle approached.
A silver Mercedes.
Eleanor Whitmore stepped out.
She looked composed.
Almost annoyed.
Then she saw Malik alive in Thomas's arms.
For one brief second, her face revealed everything.
Shock.
Not relief.
Shock.
Arthur saw it.
So did Lena.
Eleanor recovered quickly.
“Thomas.”
“What happened?” he demanded.
She stared at Malik.
“I was looking everywhere.”
“You were supposed to be watching him.”
“I turned away for perhaps thirty seconds. He must have wandered toward the dock.”
Arthur laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“A twenty-two-month-old child climbed into a boat, untied it, and pushed himself onto the lake?”
Eleanor looked at him.
Her face hardened.
“Arthur Johnson.”
“Eleanor Whitmore.”
Thomas looked between them.
“You two know each other?”
Arthur stared at Eleanor.
“Oh, we know each other.”
Eleanor's eyes dropped.
She saw the pendant hanging outside Malik's sweater.
Her expression changed again.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But Arthur caught it.
Fear.
Not of him.
Of the necklace.
Arthur moved closer.
“Where did Malik get this?”
Eleanor said nothing.
Thomas looked.
“What necklace?”
Arthur held it up.
Thomas's eyes widened.
“I've never seen that before.”
Arthur turned toward him.
“It belonged to Evelyn.”
Thomas froze.
The forest became silent.
Even Eleanor stopped breathing.
Thomas stared at the pendant.
“My wife?”
Arthur nodded.
“Your missing wife.”
May you like
Then Arthur looked directly at Eleanor.
“And somebody put it around your grandson's neck.”
