Birthright

Where’s Jay?” she asked, looking around.
    “He went outside, for some air,” Doug told her.
    “I see.” And her lips firmed and thinned.
    “Give him a break, Mom. It’s a lot for him to take in, too.”
    “This is a happy day.” She took Callie’s hand as she sat down. “We should all be together. I know you’re overwhelmed,” she said to Callie. “I know you’ll need some time, but there’s so much I want to talk to you about. So much I want to ask you. I don’t even know where to start.”
    “Suzanne.” Callie looked down at their joined hands. “What happened to you, to all of you, was despicable. There’s nothing we can do to change any of it.”
    “But we know now.” Her voice bubbled, a kind of joyful hysteria. “We know you’re safe and well. You’re here.”
    “We don’t know. We don’t know how, we don’t know why. We don’t know who. We have to find out.”
    “Of course we do. Of course. But what’s important is you’re here. We can go home. We can go home now and . . .”
    “What?” Callie demanded. Panic snapped into her. No, she hadn’t pushed Suzanne away before. But she would now. She had to. “Pick up where we left off? I had a whole life between then and now, Suzanne. I can’t make up for all you lost. I can’t be your little girl, or even your grown daughter. I can’t give up what I am to be what you had. I wouldn’t know how.”
    “You can’t ask me to just walk away, to just close it off, Jessie—”
    “That’s not who I am. We need to find out why. You never gave up,” she said as Suzanne’s eyes filled again. “That’s something we have in common. I don’t give up either. I’m going to find out why. You can help me.”
    “I’d do anything for you.”
    “Then I need you to take some time, to think back. To remember. Your doctor when you were pregnant with me. The people in his office, the people you had contact with during the delivery. The pediatrician and his office staff. Who knew you were going to the mall that day? Who might have known you or your habits well enough to be there at the right time. Make me a list,” Callie added. “I’m a demon with lists.”
    “Yes, but what good will it do?”
    “There’s got to be a connection somewhere between you and Carlyle. Someone who knew about you. You were a target. I’m sure of it. It all happened too quickly, too smoothly for it to have been random.”
    “The police . . .”
    “Yes, the police,” Callie said with a nod. “The FBI. Get me everything you can remember from the investigations. Everything you have. I’m good at digging. Good at putting what I uncover into a cohesive picture. I need to do this for myself, and for you. Help me.”
    “I will. Of course I will. Whatever you want. But I need some time with you. Please.”
    “We’ll figure something out. Why don’t I walk you down to your car?”
    “Go ahead, Mom.” Doug walked to the door, opened it. “I’ll be right there.”
    He closed the door behind them, leaned back on it as he looked at Lana. “Sort of takes ‘dysfunctional family’ to a whole new level. I want to thank you for helping my mother pull herself together.”
    “She’s very strong. She was entitled to break down. I nearly did myself.” She let out a breath. “How are you doing?”
    “I don’t know yet. I don’t like change.” He walked to her window, stared out at her pretty view of the park. “Life’s less complicated if people just leave things alone.”
    “Take it from me, nothing stays the same. Good, bad or indifferent.”
    “People won’t let it. Callie isn’t the type to leave anything alone, not for long. She shoots off energy, a kind of restlessness even when she’s standing still. What happened here is just . . . a domino effect. One domino pushed over, to bump into the rest. To change the whole pattern.”
    “And the old pattern was more comfortable for you.”
    “I understood the old pattern.” He shrugged. “But it’s been knocked to hell. I just sat here and had a conversation with . . . with my sister. The second one I’ve had in the last few days. Before that, the last time I saw her, she was bald and toothless. It’s all just a little surreal.”
    “And they all need you to varying degrees.”
    He frowned, turned back toward her. “I don’t think so.”
    “It was very obvious to this objective observer. And it explains to me why you keep going away, and why you keep coming back.”
    “My