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Detective Shanley shook her head. “She called us and told us she was afraid she had a kidnapped toddler in her care.”
“She called you this morning?” Tabitha asked.
“No, she called first thing yesterday morning. Your first warrant had already been denied, but our second attempt granted a warrant for DNA immediately and we took the swab without his father knowing. We were able to get a positive match with the sample you left with Detective Bentley a year ago. We’ve had them both under surveillance ever since.”
“Where’s Mark now?” Johnny had to know.
“He’s been arrested and charged with kidnapping. A host of other charges will be following shortly, I’m sure.”
“When can I see my baby?” Tabitha’s question was no more than a whisper.
The detective nodded at a mirror Johnny suddenly realized had to be a one-way window. Seconds later, the door opened and Mallory Harris was there with a toddler in her arms, Braden right behind her.
“Oh, my God!” Tabitha’s voice was soft, but filled with more emotion than Johnny had ever heard. He couldn’t imagine the control it must have taken her to approach the child slowly. To wipe the tears from her eyes and keep them away.
“Jackson?” she said, reaching out a finger to the little boy’s hand.
The toddler studied her, a half frown on his face. “You remember I said you were going back home to Mommy?” Mallory asked.
Johnny figured the entire situation was going over the toddler’s head, but Jackson nodded.
“Do you want to go to Mommy now?” she asked.
Johnny held his breath.
Jackson nodded.
And Tabitha had her son back in her arms.
Needing to look away, Johnny caught Braden watching him. The other man met Johnny’s gaze, apology clear, and Johnny nodded.
He was no longer needed.
* * *
The first month after Jackson’s return would probably always be a haze to Tabitha. Certain moments stood out. Like the first time her son touched her face, reaching for the tears she’d shed when she’d first held him. The trip to the hotel to collect their things was a blur, as was the ride back to Mission Viejo in the car Johnny hired for her, driver and all.
He’d had to go get the truck off the street and take care of business in San Diego. He’d made it home late Saturday night. She’d hoped he’d stop in, but didn’t blame him when he didn’t.
She should’ve been asleep. But she’d been waiting to hear his car. To know that he was back. And she was having a hard time taking her eyes off Jackson for more than a minute. The first week she spent every night camped out on the floor of her son’s room. He was in his crib, but she was going to have to start thinking about a toddler bed.
She’d taken a leave of absence from work; she had twelve weeks available to her and planned to take Jackson back to the daycare at the hospital when she did go back to work, just as she’d done before his abduction.
She took him shopping. None of the clothes in his room fit. He needed age-appropriate toys. She took him to his pediatrician, cried when she heard that he was a completely normal and healthy two-year-old. One night she fed him peas just so he’d make a face and turn away, and then cried when he did.
Johnny had stopped by the day after they returned home, but he hadn’t come in. He’d told her he was leaving, putting his house on the market and heading home to get back to the life of a corporate lawyer. He’d met his goal where the food truck was concerned. He wanted her to know that his first order of business was setting up the Angel’s Food Bowls franchise and the nonprofit, with franchise fees going to the charity. He’d be keeping his original truck, hiring someone to manage and run it for him, and the money it made would also go to the nonprofit. He said he’d be in touch.
She’d hugged him. Cried a little. Kissed him one last time. And said she’d be waiting to hear from him.
And she was. Waiting. Some part of her would probably always be waiting for Johnny. She wasn’t expecting to ever hear from him again, though—other than, maybe, to work at the nonprofit. But even then, whoever he hired to be in charge could get in touch with her.
The third week Jackson was home she made an appointment to meet with a therapist. She couldn’t seem to let her son out of her sight and didn’t want her paranoia to have a negative effect on him. From what she was told, her feelings were completely natural, given what she’d been through. They’d dissipate to some degree with time. And the fact that she was aware of them, doing something about them, probably meant there was no reason to worry. She’d loosen up.
In the meantime, it wasn’t hurting Jackson any to have his mother’s undivided attention. He missed his daddy, testimony to the fact that Mark had been good to his son, been loving with him, but as the days passed, Jackson asked for him less and less.
At the end of the third week, Johnny called.
“I wanted to see how you’re doing,” he said.
