was dead. Flash had killed her. The worst had finally happened, a year and a half after she’d left home with him. And Eleanor suddenly remembered the baby.
“Where’s Ruby?”
“They didn’t say. Her telegram said she was with Flash’s mother.” They had no idea where to look for her, or what the woman’s name was.
Alex called the Boston police back a few minutes later. The sergeant who had called them before said that their drummer had identified the bodies, so the Boston coroner could release Camille’s body to be sent home. Alex asked about the baby, and if they knew anything about the whereabouts of Flash’s mother.
“You mean Herbert Goobleman?” he asked in an angry tone. He hated stories like this one. The girl was just a kid. Goobleman was thirty-six years old, and had tracks all over his arms and legs. He had obviously been doing hard drugs for years, and he had a police record for possession and sales. “That’s Flash Storm’s real name. We have a next of kin listed on his driver’s license. Florence Goobleman. We just called her. We couldn’t reach her, her boyfriend said she’s in jail. We checked. Passing bad checks, possession of a firearm, and some minor drug charges. She has a record an arm long, and some old prostitution charges,” the sergeant said disapprovingly.
“My daughter left her baby with her,” Alex said, sounding panicked. “The baby is three weeks old.”
“I’ll look into it,” the sergeant said sympathetically. Alex reported what he’d said as they waited. The phone rang half an hour later.
“The infant is in Child Protective Services, in foster care in Newark, New Jersey. They took her when Mrs. Goobleman was arrested a week ago. She has no formal custody arrangement. They were trying to track down the parents, but Goobleman wouldn’t give them any information, she probably didn’t know.”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can get there,” Alex said, sounding frantic. Camille was dead. Her baby was in foster care somewhere in New Jersey. Their whole world was upside down and had fallen apart. He explained the situation to Eleanor as they rushed to pack.
They were on a flight to Newark that night, and they went straight to Child Protective Services from the airport in the morning after they landed. The case worker was extremely helpful, and they met with a judge of the family court later that morning. The circumstances were clear, as was their right to custody. The foster mother who had been assigned temporarily brought the baby to court, she was a kind, sympathetic woman. The baby was still tiny, and the foster mother said she’d been malnourished when she got her but was eating well now. She handed the baby over. Alex and Eleanor signed all the documents, and the judge extended his condolences over the death of their daughter, whose body was on its way to San Francisco for burial. He wished them luck with the baby. A doctor at Child Protective Services cleared her to fly to California with them. They gave them enough formula, diapers, and clothing to get her home, and last them for a day or two.
By that night, they were on a plane to San Francisco with Ruby in Eleanor’s arms. She slept peacefully, as they cried over their daughter, and gazed in wonder at the gift she had left them. They prayed that they could do a better job with her than they had been able to do with Camille. Ruby Moon was theirs to love now. It was the only thing left they could do for their daughter. And on a lonely flight from Boston, Camille was on her way home in a casket.
Chapter 14
When Ruby came to live with her grandparents, it rejuvenated them in some ways, and exhausted them in others. It cast them backward in time to when Camille was a baby, and they loved Ruby as much as if she had been their own. As she grew up, they took her to school, and to Tahoe with them for holidays and vacations. They attended school plays and all her sports events and ballet classes. Eleanor hired a young girl to help her when Ruby was an infant, but as much as possible, with their successful business, they took care of her themselves, sharing their life with her.
They never pretended to be anything other than her grandparents, and as she got older, they showed her photographs of her mother, and shared their