Bringing Rosie Home. Loree Lough
individuals who have been found.
May they all know the comfort and peace
of home, wherever they are.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Huge and heartfelt thanks to all those who provided insights, opinions and information that helped lend authenticity to this story: the helpful employees of Baltimore’s Child Protective Services office, FBI agents Donald McCarthy and Paul Reagan*, pediatric psychiatrists Ron Abrams and Sue Robinson, detective Jack Royer, Adele and Phil Morrison* (whose son went missing in 1995), and Donna Ryan*, whose once-missing daughter was returned to her loving arms in 2001. (* = names changed at individuals’ request.)
Contents
AS SHE’D DRESSED this morning, Rena had decided this would be her last session with Dr. Hutchinson. Two years of therapy, and what did she have to show for it? A smaller bank account and dozens of wasted hours, that was what. And the psychologist hadn’t brought her little girl back. Or saved Rena’s marriage.
But the analyst surprised her, shifting her line of questioning from Rosie’s kidnapping to Rena’s relationship—or lack thereof.
“How are things with Grant?” Martha asked.
They’d been separated over three years now, ever since Rena had taken her mother-in-law’s advice and turned Rosie’s room into a home office for Grant. When he saw it, every ugly thought and accusation he’d kept to himself had poured out, and when Rena had realized it was her presence—not sparkly tiaras, dolls and Teddy bears—that reminded him of that awful day, she’d offered to leave.
And he’d done nothing to stop her.
“We haven’t spoken in months.” Not since his grandfather died and he’d called to ask if she wanted to attend the services.
“Do you ever regret leaving?”
Only every day! Yes, Grant had allowed bitterness and blame to turn him into a surly, brooding man, but Rena remembered well the man he’d once been. The man he’d still be if she hadn’t taken her eyes off Rosie that day at the zoo.
“It was the right thing to do,” she said.
“For Grant? Or for you?”
“Both of us. Living under the same roof with the person responsible for what happened to Rosie... I don’t blame him for anything.”
Rena held her breath, partly to keep from remembering how it felt to have her sweet little girl beside her one minute and gone the next.
“We were both miserable.”
“Still,” Martha injected, “I wish he’d consider seeing someone. It might help him come to terms with it, and admit, finally, that it wasn’t your fault. That it could have happened to anyone.”
They’d been over this a dozen times. Maybe more. Rena didn’t feel much like repeating that she’d go to her grave feeling guilty for taking her eyes off Rosie during the field trip.
“But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to Rosie, because of me.”
Martha sighed. “I think you know what I’m going to say to that...”
Rena was about to admit that yes, she knew, and that pretending she wasn’t to blame only made it hurt more. But her cell phone buzzed.
Rena glanced at the number.
“Sorry, but I have to take this. It’s my... It’s Grant. Our hour is almost up, anyway, so...”
Rena was almost out the door before Martha said, “See you next week.”
No, she wouldn’t. But there wasn’t time to get into that now. Later,