by Willow Rose
It’s going to be awful, and you know it. Your mom is going to try to persuade you to live healthier and exercise more, and she’ll always be on your case while you’re there, telling you if only you ate this or did this, then you’d live a healthier life.
“All it takes are a few small adjustments.”
That’s what she always told me.
“Just cut out the sugar in your coffee, and drink water instead of soda. Eat a piece of fruit instead of the cookies you always stuff yourself with.”
Oh, yes, it was going to get horrible, and I’d have to eat quinoa and kale all day, but so be it. If this could help us find Sarah Abbey, then I was willing to make the sacrifice. Besides, one of the children could happen to come down with something right on the day I was supposed to go, right? It was possible. Then, naturally, I couldn’t go. My mom would have to understand that. Of course, she would.
“So, this guy has that type of truck?” Scott asked as we came closer to Orlando and could see the signs leading to the airport.
“He bought it in 2010, yes. For twenty-five thousand. The truck is from 1991.”
“And does he still have it? Could he be our guy?”
“That’s what we’re about to find out,” I said. “I haven’t exactly told him we’re coming. I just found his name and address in the DMV records. His name is Jeffrey Johnson.”
Chapter 31
“Is this it? Are you sure?”
Scott peeked out the window of the minivan. I had parked by the house and killed the engine. I squinted my eyes to better see against the bright sun that stood right above us.
“What in the…”
Scott got out, and I followed him, slamming the car door shut behind me. There was barely anything left of the house in front of us. It had very obviously been ravaged in a devastating fire. The roof was completely gone, and there was nothing left but the charcoaled walls. I got the feeling it had been a nice house before it burned down. All the neighboring houses were very exclusive—cute, older Florida houses from the nineteen twenties, several of them two-stories, with lots of space and big yards. The entire neighborhood surrounded Lake Sylvan, where you could go fishing or boating.
“You sure you got it right?” Scott asked.
I looked at my phone at the address, then at the mailbox where the house number was still written. “Yes, that’s it.”
“I’ll be…” Scott said. He glared toward the garage or the little that was left of it. “You think the car was in there when it burned down?”
“Excuse me? Can I help you?”
A woman in high heels came from the house across the street and approached us, tapping along on the asphalt. She was gorgeous with her long hair in a ponytail, light makeup, and expensive blue business suit. I felt inadequate and unaccomplished in my old baggy jeans.
I smiled. “Yes, maybe you can. I’m Eva Rae Thomas, and this is Scott Benton.”
I reached out my hand, and we shook.
“Isabella Hayton.”
“We’re looking for a Jeffrey Johnson.”
Her smile faded, and her lips stiffened.
“Jeff?”
“Yes, he lives here according to DMV records, but…”
She swallowed. “Jeff…did use to live here. But I’m afraid…he died in the fire.”
I froze. “Oh, no. That’s awful. I am so sorry. Did you know him well?”
She nodded. “I’m actually his sister. We bought these houses in the same neighborhood to be close together.”
“How awful. I am so sorry. What happened?”
She shook her head with a deep exhale. “They don’t know. It was probably caused by something electrical; at least, that was the conclusion in the report. It happened at night. Jeff was sleeping. He had taken a couple of sleeping pills as he sometimes did, so he didn’t wake up.”
She sniffled and fought her tears, then placed a hand under her nose for a few seconds like it calmed her down.
“How long ago was this?”
“It happened four years ago,” she said. “Can you believe it? We’re still fighting the insurance company to get the money. They keep dragging it out.”
Four years ago? Tommy was killed two and a half years ago. It couldn’t have been Jeffrey Johnson who drove the truck then.
“That’s tough,” I said and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Isabella looked at me and nodded.
“Why are you looking for him?”
“We’re actually looking for his car,” I said. “A Ford Skyranger. One of the rarest pick-up trucks Ford ever made.”
I showed her a picture of the truck from the Internet. Isabella’s face lit up. “Yeah, that’s Jeff’s truck. He loved it so much—ugliest thing in the world if you ask me, but he never did care for my opinion.”
“So, he did own one?”
She nodded. “Yes. But it was in his garage when it burned down, so it was lost in the fire.”
“Do you know if Jeff was ever in an accident with that car?” I asked, even though I knew it didn’t fit with the timeline.
Isabella paused. She gave me a strange look. “Who are you people? Why are you asking all these questions?”
I showed her my FBI badge. “We’re just investigating an old case. Two and a half years ago, a man was hit by a truck in downtown Winter Park. It was a Ford Skyranger like Jeff’s.”
She shook her head. “So, you thought my brother killed him?”
“We’re investigating what happened; that’s all. The car led us here in our search. But if Jeffrey died in the fire four years ago, then it couldn’t have been him.”
She scoffed. “I can’t believe you people, coming here and asking these questions after he is dead. Have you no shame?”
“I…just said that…”
Isabella didn’t stay to hear me out. She turned around and walked away, her high heels clicking loudly. Scott came up behind me with a deep sigh.
“Looks like we hit a dead end.”
I nodded, feeling disappointed. I had felt so confident we were onto something here. Now, it felt like we were back to square one, even though I didn’t want to admit it.
Chapter 32
Sarah Abbey had run track in high school and even gone to state, where she placed third in her junior year. It was many years ago now, but at this moment, storming outside of her prison into the street, she was suddenly so grateful her mother had pushed her not to quit running back then. She was still fast, even though it wasn’t as fast as she used to be. But as the adrenalin kicked in, she was able to accelerate and get as far away as humanly possible.
As she looked behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she charged into an elderly lady. She forced her into the bushes next to her and made her drop the bag in her hand. The woman screamed for dear life and stared at her like she was being attacked. Seeing this, Sarah stopped, picked up the bag, and handed it to her, saying, “I am so sorry.”
Sarah fumbled with the bag while the elderly woman stared at her, eyes wide and frightened. Sarah realized what she must look like as the woman pulled the bag from between her hands with a disapproving grunt.
“Are you hurt?” Sarah asked, her heart pounding in her chest, eyes glancing toward the street where she had come from, fearing to see her kidnapper show up at any moment.
You pierced a nail into their chest! That should give you some time.
The elderly woman nodded, clinging to her handbag. Sarah took off again, heading toward an intersection where she could cross the street. She sprinted along the sidewalk and reached a strip mall, where she slowed down, then merged in with the crowd of shoppers, catching her breath while zigzagging between them, blending in as best as she could without turning heads because of her dirty and torn clothes. Luckily, most people were too busy with their own quests even to notice her. A few children did, though, and pointed at her. One even laughed.
As she walked past the stores and reached another parking lot, Sarah took off running again. Sh
e spotted a park and realized she knew where she was.
“Mead Botanical Garden,” she mumbled.
Sarah crossed the street and went in. She sat on a bench in the garden’s amphitheater and caught her breath. Then she began wondering what to do next. Where could she possibly go? A police car drove by on the street outside the garden, and her heart sank.
If only she could go to the police.
But if she couldn’t go to them, where could she turn for help? She couldn’t go home to Viera. Her kidnapper had taken her from that place.
Sarah sat on the bench, contemplating what to do next as the sun began to set behind the tall trees. Suddenly, exhaustion and fatigue overpowered her. So, she put her head down—just for one second—and closed her eyes.
Less than a minute later, she was heavily asleep. Meanwhile, a bright red 1991 Ford Skyranger drove by outside the garden and stopped for a second by the entrance, revving the engine a few times, then decided to continue, tires screeching on the asphalt.
Part III
Three Days Later
Chapter 33
Grocery shopping with two infants wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. I had Angel in a sling on my chest and Owen in his car seat inside the cart, pushing him through Publix, when I turned down the cereal aisle and saw her.
Kim!
I stared at her. She hadn’t seen me yet and studied the label of a cereal box from the organic section. At first, I wondered if I should simply turn around and walk away but then thought about it again.
I’m not the one who should be ashamed of myself.
Instead, I lifted my head high, then pushed the cart down the aisle toward the cereal when she lifted her gaze and spotted me. She froze completely. Her eyes landed on Owen inside the cart.
“Hello, Kim,” I said, pretending like it wasn’t the most awkward encounter in the history of grocery encounters. “How are you today?”
Her eyes didn’t leave Owen, and I could tell she was struggling within herself. She stood utterly paralyzed and stared at her grandchild. I remained still too and let her, hoping that seeing him would wake some kind of maternal instinct inside her.
I had asked Christine to talk to Amy’s boyfriend at school and maybe find out if he knew where Amy was, but she said he had simply told her he hadn’t seen her for months. We didn’t believe him, of course, but were also contemplating what to do next. If Amy was hiding at his place, then we had to tread carefully. Christine said that Amy had told her that he didn’t know she had a baby. She didn’t even tell him that she was pregnant and ran away before it showed on her body. If she was hiding with him, it wasn’t as easy as that to go there and ask her to come back. She was hurting, and it needed to be done the right way.
Meanwhile, I was drowning in diapers and barely got any sleep. Still, Owen was growing on me, and I had to admit, I was beginning to care about him a lot—almost like he was my child. I wasn’t even sure I’d give him to Kim and Phil if they asked me. I wanted to make sure he ended up in a home where there was love. I’d rather live like this, getting no sleep and constantly taking care of a baby, than live knowing he was in a place where they didn’t care about him, where they didn’t love him.
If anyone could do it, it was me, I told myself. Matt was of another opinion, naturally. But we were just different that way.
“He’s gorgeous, right?” I finally said. “He started to smile yesterday.”
And you missed it. Just like you’ll miss the first time he rolls over, the first time he sits by himself or pulls himself up to stand. How can you live with that?
Kim looked up at me, her eyes wide. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
“Anyway,” I said as Angel started to fuss in the sling, “I should get these two home. It’s feeding time.”
I pushed the cart past Kim, then got down to the sugary non-organic cereal, feeling her eyes on me as I filled up the cart with Cheerios and Frosted Flakes. I sensed she was still watching me as I grabbed the cart again and pushed it further down when suddenly she spoke, “Eva Rae?”
Startled at the sound of her voice, I turned to face her. She walked closer.
“Yes?”
She swallowed. She was about to say something; then, it seemed like she regretted it.
Come on, lady, say something. Here I am, working my behind off to take care of your grandchild. At least tell me you appreciate what I’m doing. Tell me you’re sorry. Something. Anything!
Her lips parted, and a sound left her mouth. “I…I…”
Yes?
Then she lowered her eyes again. “Let me know if you need anything. Like financially.”
I glared at her, unable to speak a word. She was offering me money? She thought money was what her grandson needed?
Were these people for real?
I answered with a scoff, then turned away and pushed my cart to the end of the aisle. As I joined the line for the cash register, I shook my head. Owen started to wail inside the cart, and I took him in my arms while whispering in his ear that I would never let those people anywhere near him. It suddenly made a lot of sense to me that Amy had run away. She had learned from the best how to avoid responsibility.
“They don’t deserve you,” I whispered. “No, they don’t.”
Chapter 34
Lily looked in the rearview mirror at the cars behind her. She was going sixty over the bridges toward the islands after spending the day at The Avenues in Viera, shopping. As she glanced in the rearview mirror, she again got that strange feeling that someone was following her.
“You’re being paranoid,” she sang into the car, repeating her boyfriend Peter’s words. He had been mad at her for going up to that guy at Coconuts on the Beach. Well, not mad exactly, more like surprised, he said. Why she would get in that man’s face like that, he didn’t understand; he said on their way home in his car.
That had made her even angrier. Was she just supposed to accept that this guy was following her? He had been everywhere lately. The café, the gym, and she was almost certain she had seen him outside of her house too, but she wasn’t completely sure of that.
“Cocoa Beach is such a small town,” Peter had argued. “I see the same people in many places. That doesn’t mean they’re following me.”
“I am not paranoid,” she had said, then slammed the car door shut without kissing him goodbye. She didn’t want to have to deal with him at that moment. Didn’t he understand that all she wanted was his support? Lily hadn’t talked to him since and decided she was getting tired of him anyway. He was sloppy, smoked way too much pot, and didn’t even have a job. Giving drum lessons to a couple of elementary school kids once a week wasn’t exactly a real job. He still lived with his parents, for crying out loud. Meanwhile, Lily was going places with her music career and had landed a record deal recently. They weren’t exactly compatible.
Her agent had told her that there would have to be sacrifices made, and Peter would probably be the first one. Lily wasn’t too sad about that. She cared for him, but she didn’t love him.
“Time for a change,” she said to herself in the rearview mirror, smiling. She could already see her stage name in neon lights.
LIL.Y
She had put the period in between the L and the Y to give it a double meaning. It was quite clever, she believed. The thought of her bright future ahead made her turn up the radio and start to sing. She sang along to Billie Eilish's song, dreaming of becoming as big as her when the car engine suddenly went out. It didn’t even sputter or make a noise; it simply died from one second to the other. The music stopped, and so did the engine. The car was still rolling as she was going down the bridge.
“What the…?”
Lily shrieked and steered the car onto the side of the road, then hit the brakes. The car came to a full stop, and she panted agitatedly while the other vehicles were rushing past her, going so fast it shook her vehicle.
She tried to start it again, but n
othing happened. It was completely dead.
“Oh, no,” she complained. “Not again. Please, start. I have to be at work in a few minutes, please?”
But the car remained lifeless. Lily groaned and leaned back in the seat, placing two hands in front of her face, screaming into them. It was the third time this month she’d be late for her job at the café, and they’d most certainly fire her. She couldn’t catch a break, could she?
“Argh!” she moaned into the car when suddenly another car drove up behind her and stopped. Lily peeked at it in the rearview mirror, surprised at this. Had someone actually stopped to help her? Could she be that lucky? If this person had jumper cables, they might be able to revive her battery, and she would only be a little late for work. Maybe her boss, Shana, could forgive her for being a bit late if Lily told her what happened.
She opened the door and got out. She felt so uplifted and hopeful that she couldn’t stop smiling. Not until a second later, at least, when she looked into the eyes of the person that had stopped.
Then, everything inside her froze to ice.
Chapter 35
THEN:
“There are some men here to talk to you.”
Lynn looked up from her papers when her secretary peeked into her office. Lynn took off her glasses as two men came up behind the secretary. It was Monday, and Lynn didn’t see patients on Mondays. This was the day for paperwork, and she was lagging terribly behind.
“What is it regarding?”
“It’s the…police,” her secretary said, whispering the last word. “Detectives.”
The two men came inside, and Lynn looked at them as they sat down. They presented themselves as Detective Fraser and Detective Harder.
“How can I help you, Detectives?” Lynn asked, puzzled.
“You have a patient that we have taken some interest in,” Detective Harder said.