Chapter Nine

Emma wondered how it would work. Would the prison tell her when to expect Neal's call or would it just come out of the blue one day? How long would it take to process the form? Would anyone tell her if she'd done it wrong, or if Neal wasn't going to call, or…

She wondered and she worried, at first, but she quickly had other things to think about. Ray hadn't been joking about having more work for her. He 'helped out' a number of third party collection agencies whose targets went missing and as the weeks passed, more and more of those files ended up in Emma's inbox.

Emma discovered a talent for finding these people who didn't want to be found. It took time; she didn't have the luxury of taking a day off to go traveling to Phoenix—or further afield—for every case. She didn't always get her quarry. But she did manage to locate far more people than those who slipped through.

And then one day, Ray asked her to sit in on a conference call with their contact at one of the agencies. "I think you'll learn something," he added, smiling a bit at her surprise.

Emma wondered at that. She seemed to be doing fine so far with the tools at her disposal and she wasn't sure what taking time off from her workload would accomplish, but she dutifully pushed her folders aside and punched the right buttons on her phone to join the call. Presently, another woman's voice came on the line.

"Hi, Ray."

Ray cleared his throat. "Hey, Charlene. Oh, just so you know, we've got another party on the call. Charlene Delgado, I'd like you to meet Emma Swan. She's the skip trace wizard who's been handling your accounts for the last four months."

Emma blinked. Wizard? Her? Really? But Ray, who was always joking, hadn't sounded like he was joking about that. An incredulous smile spread across her face.

"All of them?" Charlene sounded surprised.

"Ever since the Scott Johnson file."

Suddenly, Emma realized that she should have said something when Ray had introduced her. "Uh, hi."

"Welcome aboard, Emma," Charlene greeted her warmly. "Pleasure to meet you."

"L-likewise," Emma managed.

Ray sat up a bit straighter. "Okay, let's get on with this. Emma, I just want you taking notes for now; if you have any questions, save them for the end or talk to me later."

Emma ducked her head once and reached for pen and paper, but she was still glowing and hearing Ray's praise in her mind. Wizard…

"Emma," Ray said, a few days later, "got a minute?"

Emma looked up from the stack of phone books she was rifling through, one for each major city. "I'll find her," she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"If you don't, it won't be for lack of trying," he said. "As much as I love seeing your dedication, I need your help answering one very important question."

Emma's irritation gave way to worry. "Did I screw something up?" she asked in a small voice.

"Well, there were a couple of typos in your last report; spellcheck won't redline anything that's a real word but not the one you intended, but that's not what I wanted to ask you."

"Um… okay," Emma said. "Then…?"

"I'm thinking of a pizza dinner for everyone at the office working past quitting time," Ray said straight-faced. "Just taking a poll of topping preferences. So far, half the staff has voiced an appreciation for pepperoni and sausage, but I'd like to hear from the rest. So…" He plunked a paper menu down on top of the open phone book. "Your thoughts? And don't tell me you want plain cheese."

Emma blinked. "But I like plain cheese."

"C'mon. Live a little."

Emma sighed. Plain cheese was safe. Nobody ever screwed up mozzarella. Well, she amended mentally as she remembered one hole in the wall joint in Oregon in a town named Boring, of all things, almost nobody. She looked at the menu a little nervously. "Hamburger?" she asked. "On pizza? Seriously?"

"It's good," Ray said. "Nowhere near as good as Aunt Jenny's tepary bean stew—I've got to get you up to Gila Mountain sometime so you can try her cooking—but good." He shook his head slightly. "You won't find any Tohono O'odham restaurants here in town, though."

Emma frowned. "I thought you didn't know who your family was," she said, remembering what he'd told her when he'd offered her the job.

"Not when I showed up at that PI's office, no," Ray confirmed. "But I didn't know anything about tracking down missing people back then. I learned." He shook his head slightly. "Anyway. So, was that hamburger on your half of the pie?"

Emma debated with herself for a minute. "If I don't like it, will you eat it?"

"Absolutely. So pick another topping while you're at it. Not pineapple, though; if you want to feel Hawaiian, ham is a traditional luau food, too, and if there's the slightest chance I'm going to finish your share, I think I'm going to have to insist. No pineapple."

"Ham and hamburger?" Emma made a face. "I don't think so. Make it mushroom."

"Mushroom and hamburger it is," Ray said cheerfully. He went back to his desk and picked up the phone to place the order. Emma went back to her research, nodding absently when Ray told her it would be delivered in about twenty minutes.

She was deep in her phone books when the office door swung open and at first, she didn't look up to see who'd come in. She registered the slight bounce of the newcomer's step and immediately thought about Neal. She still hadn't heard anything about the form. Maybe it was time to follow u—

"Hi! I got a half pepperoni-sausage, half hamb…" His voice, his oh-so-familiar voice trailed off as Emma looked up in disbelief. Their eyes met. "Emma!?"

The flat box dropped from his fingers to the floor as Emma sprang up from her chair and into his arms. "NEAL!"

"I only got two years," Neal said, lifting a point of pizza to his mouth and taking a bite. Long, gooey cheese strings stretched out as he pulled it back. "Well, it was a bit longer than that, but they deducted 'time served' from it, so I got out four months ago."

Emma shook her head. "That would've been right around the time I faxed in that form to let you know how to get in touch with me."

"Ships that pass in the night," Ray said. "Say," he turned his head toward Neal, "not that I'm trying to get rid of you, but is Murray okay with your hanging out here, or do you need to get back?"

Neal grinned. "Nah, this was my last delivery; I was heading home afterwards." He looked a little nervously at Emma. "But that was because I didn't think I had anywhere else to go…?"

Emma hesitated. "I… uh… was going to follow up on a possible lead, but that was before you…" She stopped. "I mean…"

"That trail's more than a year cold," Ray said. "I doubt one more day's going to make a difference. Besides, something tells me that even if I insist on your staying, you won't be in the right headspace." He sighed. "Go on, beat it. I'll see you tomorrow at nine sharp. Unless one of the ghosts gets you," he added.

"Ghosts?" Emma repeated skeptically.

"Yeah," Neal deadpanned. "You didn't know? Half the buildings in this place are haunted. Or supposed to be."

"Well, not that many," Ray said. "But the old sheriff's office-slash-jail is, and so's the Old Dominion. Oh and the high school…"

Emma snorted. "Sounds like I should've stayed in Miami."

"As long as you kept away from the third floor of the Bullion Plaza Museum."

"Seriously?"

Ray chuckled. "Well, probably not. All the same, people have reported weird stuff in those places. Like footsteps overhead when there's nobody on the upper floor."

Neal grinned back. "You mean to tell me that two PIs haven't done their own investigating?"

"Ah, but you see," Ray said, reaching for another slice of pizza, "nobody's hiring us to investigate those places. Curiosity is fine, but if I want to keep the lights on and the rent paid, I've got to focus on actual cases." He shrugged. "Besides, if I ever did find out that it was just the wind or a loose branch or something, once word got out, Globe would become even less interesting to tourists. And why would I want to hurt our local economy? It'd be like telling a four-year-old the truth about Santa Claus."

Neal finished his pizza and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin. "Just what is the truth about Santa Claus?" he asked.

Ray did a double take. Then Neal snickered, Emma laughed, and finally he joined in. "I think you two'd better leave now. A few more lines like that and I might change my mind. Nice meeting you. Emma, I'll see you tomorrow."

Neal met Emma's eyes. "Well, since we've just had dinner, uh, you want to go somewhere and grab some coffee?"

Emma nodded.

"Hey, you okay?" Neal asked, as Emma set down her cup. "You've been pretty quiet."

Emma swallowed the gulp she'd taken. "I'm fine. Seriously," she added. "I guess… well, it's been a long time and it feels like a lot's changed." She took a breath. "It feels like I've changed."

Neal nodded. "You do seem a lot more… serious. Not that that's a bad thing," he added quickly. "Just… different." He took a breath. "How bad was it? In there?"

Emma tried to smile. "It was okay, I guess. I mean, nobody beat me up in the showers or tried to bully me into giving up my desserts or any of that other stuff you see on TV. They left me alone; I left them alone. But it was… Well, how was your… time?"

"I'm not planning on doing anything that would get me sent back there, if that's what you're asking," Neal said fervently. "I think every night I thanked my lucky stars that they'd only caught me with the watches. If they'd found the car and traced that back to me, or if they'd done some digging and found out about our," he coughed, "Bonnie and Clyde routine, I'd have gone away a lot longer."

Emma nodded. "I saw an article about you not long after I got to Durango. It said you were looking at three to ten…?"

"I thought I was," Neal nodded. "Turns out that most of those watches weren't worth what my old boss reported they were. Either he was scammed long before his path ever crossed mine, or he was scamming the insurance company. Either way, it was enough to get the charge reduced from a Class 2 felony to a Class 3. Or, to put it differently, instead of facing three to ten, I was looking at two to eight and a half. And since I didn't have a weapon, didn't hurt anyone, and it was my first offense—at least, as far as they knew—I got two years."

Emma heaved a sigh. "Lucky."

"You're telling me. So, you're living here now?"

Emma nodded. "I… was, uh, trying to find out where you were. And when I did, I guess I was scared."

"Scared," Neal repeated. "Of what?"

Of having to tell you that I had your baby and gave him up for adoption because I was too stupid to know when I was being strong-armed and I was alone and I didn't want our kid to grow up in the system, but I didn't know how I was going to raise him on my own until you got out. "We had some really good times," Emma said. "Maybe I was afraid that if we met up again, I'd find out that the memories were better than they actually were. Or you'd moved on. Or…"

"Hey." Neal stretched his hand across the table and covered hers. "Hey, it's not all on you, yannow. The day I got out, I wanted to find out what had happened to you. I figured you'd have ended up in juvie, if you hadn't got off, but I wasn't sure if it would've been here or back in Oregon. And anyway, wherever it was, I knew you'd probably have got out before me. I didn't know how to start looking. Or, I did; someone I met when I was inside told me how I could find out, but I never made the call. I figured if you'd never gone for those watches, you'd never have been arrested and you only did it for me, so you probably hated me by now—"

Emma squeezed his hand. "That was my choice," she said firmly. "Because I didn't want to lose you. Everyone I ever cared about walked out on me or sent me away. Sometimes, it was because of stuff I did," she admitted, releasing his hand, "but a lot of the time, it had nothing to do with me. Foster dad lost his job and the check they got for keeping me didn't cover expenses. Foster mom's dad had a stroke and suddenly she couldn't care for him and me at the same time. Okay, 'had to leave the country to avoid arrest' was a new one, but it was still someone I cared about walking out. I didn't want to lose you," she repeated. "So I tried to come up with a way I wouldn't."

"And now?"

Emma sighed. "I don't know. I… don't know what my feelings are. I loved you then. I think I still do. But I don't know if I do, or if I just…" she swallowed hard, "want to."

Neal was silent for an uncomfortably long time. Then, almost too calmly, he asked, "Do you think it's worth trying to find out?"

"I…" Emma blinked. She started to say something, but Neal wasn't done.

"Look, you're right. It's been a while. And maybe we're both different. Or maybe one of us is. Or we're different in the same way. If you're telling me you want to move on and you're trying to do it nicely, then I'm sorry if I didn't take the hint and I won't bother you again. But if you think there might still be something, if you want to give it a chance, well, we're both living here. Maybe we could… try getting to know each other again. Take it slow and if things don't work out, then at least we'll both know instead of each wondering if we could have had something… more than what we already had. What do you think?"

If things didn't work out, she'd never have to tell him about the baby. And if they did, there'd be time enough for that down the road. It didn't have to be tonight. "I think I'd like that," she said, smiling just a bit. "I think I'd like that a lot."

Neal exhaled noisily. "Okay then," he said, wiping his forehead theatrically. "So. You're a private eye, now?"

"Well, learning how to be one," Emma said, relaxing a bit. "And I'm… actually pretty good at it. So far, anyway…"

She didn't tell him about the baby. Not then. And not at their next meeting either. She was waiting for the right moment, or at least, that was what she told herself, but she never could seem to find one. Things were good between them now. Really good. And deep down, Emma knew that if she told him about the baby, it might wreck everything.

She told herself that Neal would understand. She was half-convinced he would. But she didn't want to risk being wrong.

Work was good, too. The data entry job Ray had hired her for was long completed. Now, she spent her time doing skip traces and background checks. Sometimes, she had to deliver summonses and subpoenas, too. Through it all, she tried to apply what she was learning to try to trace what had happened to the baby, but the trail was cold and Emma sadly resigned herself to the possibility that, like her family history, she might never find out.

Three years went by. Business was good. Not what anyone would call 'booming', not in a place like Globe, but they kept busy. Busy enough to hire Neal on to answer phones and do general office work and support.

And then, one afternoon, Emma hurried in after having spent the morning doing research at the library to find Neal looking uncharacteristically upset. "What's going on? Where's Ray?" she asked, leaning in for her kiss.

It didn't come.

"He's meeting with a client in Miami. You had a call from Marisol Zimmerman," Neal said tersely. "She's a reporter with the Arizona Republic. She wanted to know if you had any comment to make on the Ross Anderson arrest."

Emma's mouth went dry. "They got him?" she whispered.

"He was arrested late last night in Las Cruces. I Googled after I got off the phone with her. Emma… why would a reporter want to get a comment from you about a guy involved with black market adoptions?"

From the tone of his voice, he'd probably already guessed it. She swallowed hard. "I can explain…"

Ray came in found her sitting at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen twenty minutes later. "Emma?"

Emma exhaled. "He found out," she said. "They arrested Ro—"

"Ross Anderson, yeah, I heard. I was going to tell you just now, if you hadn't already seen the news. So… wait. Who found out? What did he find out?"

"Neal," Emma said, fighting for control. "He found out about the baby."

Ray frowned. "And he's blaming you for something that happened when you were sixteen? Seventeen? I… Wow. I have to say, he hasn't struck me as the judgmental type. Not about…" He stopped. "Wait. Neal's not…?"

She lost the fight. "He's the father!" she blurted, as her tears burst forth. "I wanted to tell him before this, but I couldn't find the words. And then a r-r-reporter was calling and he took the call and-and-and…"

Ray was at her side, patting her back. "Emma, hey. Easy. Easy, I got you. It's okay."

"No!" Emma sobbed. "It's not! I l-lost him and I don't know how to get him back and it's all my fault and…"

"I got you," Ray said, not sure if she was talking about Neal or the baby and not really caring. "I got you."

The door opened again and neither looked up until a new voice spoke. "Hey."

She almost didn't dare raise her eyes to see if the face and voice matched, but when she did, Neal was standing on the other side of the counter, looking a lot less belligerent than he had a short while ago. She pressed her lips together firmly, until she felt she could trust her voice. "Neal."

"Uh… can we talk? Or did I just ruin everything?"

"What?"

Ray squeezed her shoulder. "I'm going to go get us some coffee at La Casita. You'll be okay?"

Emma managed to nod. Neal came around the counter, sliding past Ray on his way to the door. As soon as Ray was gone, Neal said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Emma asked bitterly. "I had your baby, I gave him up, I didn't tell you, I—"

"You wanted to give him his best chance," Neal said. "If that phone call hadn't knocked me for a loop, I would've realized it sooner. As it was, I needed to take a walk and get my head together, but now that it is, I think I understand."

"I wanted to change my mind, you know," Emma said. "I mean, I did change my mind. I tried to. But when I told Ross, he…" Slowly, haltingly, the story came out. When she was finished, Neal hugged her.

"Even if he hadn't tricked you into that deal," he murmured, "that would have been one hell of a decision for anyone to make. You shouldn't have had to make it alone at seventeen. I can't even start to imagine what you must have been going through when you did."

"I wanted to contact you," Emma said, for what felt like the tenth time. "But I didn't know how and Dani told me it could make things worse for you because you were over eighteen and I was a minor. And that article in the paper said you could be in prison for up to ten years, and I didn't think I could be a mother…"

Neal was still hugging her. "That's why you're here, isn't it? That's why you decided to become a PI. So you could find him."

Emma nodded. "I couldn't afford to hire anyone. Ray wanted to help me anyway. I never thought I'd actually be good at it."

"You," Neal said slowly, "are amazing. And not just at PI stuff. Okay. Okay, he's out there. Somewhere."

Emma grabbed a tissue and wiped at her eyes. Then, heavily, "It's been over five years. If there's been no trace in all that time…"

"Yeah," Neal said. "Except that they just arrested the guy who organized the whole thing. That means a trial. That means that the details are going to come out. And when they do…"

"I'll find our son," Emma said fiercely, wonderingly.

"We'll find our son," Neal said. "And then, we're going to do everything we can to get him back."