Damaged Amazon

by Kim Pritekel

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Schaeffer, but I—”

  Nora was struck dumb as she looked into dark, chocolate-brown eyes. She took in the long, nearly black hair that was pulled back in a chignon. The trim figure dressed in a women’s-cut suit. The lovely face that had haunted her for far too many years, still stunning.

  The detective closed the door softly behind her, keeping her back to Nora for a moment longer than necessary before turning around and walking confidently to the chairs across the table from Nora. She sat, placing her notebook and capped pen on the tabletop before meeting Nora’s shocked gaze.

  “I’m Detective Sarah Sanchez. I work in the missing person’s unit.” She looked away and cleared her throat before a brief smile touched her lips, and she shook her head at whatever she was thinking. At last, she met Nora’s gaze again. “Hello, Nora.”

  “Hi,” Nora said softly, mentally shaking herself out of her stupor.

  “I hadn’t heard you came back home.”

  Nora was surprised at the avalanche of guilt that crashed over her but did her best to shake it off. This wasn’t the time or place. “Yeah. A couple years ago.”

  “Well,” Sarah said, all business as she flipped her notebook open to a blank page. She uncapped her pen and looked at Nora expectantly. “What’s going on?”

  “Shannon is missing.”

  Sarah began to write but stopped midsentence. She glanced up at Nora. “Shannon, little Shannon?”

  Nora smiled. “She’s not so little anymore. She’s a twenty-seven-year-old mother.”

  Sarah’s smile was brief before she was back to Detective Sanchez. “Okay, so tell me what happened.”

  ****

  “That’s Mommy?” Bella asked, eyes wide and excitement in her voice.

  “It sure is. Here, she was only a little bit older than you,” Nora said, lightly touching the five-year-old on the nose with her fingertip, making her niece giggle. “And, in this one”—Nora turned the page of the photo album as she and Bella sat cuddled together on the couch—“she was a snowman in the play she was in.”

  “What’s a play mean?” the girl asked, looking up at her aunt.

  “Well, it’s…” Nora thought about it, wondering how on earth to explain this to a five-year-old. “Okay,” she said, inspired. “You know when you and your friends are playing house or Barbies? You make up a story?” At Bella’s nod, Nora continued. “That’s kind of what a play is. It’s a story that somebody writes and other people pretend and act it out.”

  “Oh!”

  Nora brought up a hand and smoothed back messy brown hair. Bella’s smile was so much like her mother’s, as was her charm. She truly was the spitting image of Shannon but with a different hair color.

  “I think it’s time for bed, little one,” she said softly. “We can look at more pictures tomorrow.”

  “Can I sleep in your bed?”

  Nora left a loud kiss on her forehead. “Yes, you can.”

  “Aunt Nora?”

  “Yeah, sweetie?” Nora asked, closing the photo album and setting it on the coffee table. She stood and reached upward as she stretched out her back.

  “Is Mommy coming back?”

  She stopped midstretch and looked down at the little girl who still sat on the couch. She gave her the bravest smile she could. “Absolutely.”

  ****

  With Bella tucked safely and comfortably into Nora’s bed, she headed back downstairs to clean up dinner dishes. She’d made spaghetti, and to her relief, Bella loved it, especially the homemade meatballs. She’d babysat her nieces and nephew before but hadn’t been around a little one in quite some time. It was exhausting but definitely rewarding. Bella was a sweetheart and a joy.

  She thought of Bella’s question to her, and she too wondered if her mommy was coming back. Obviously she couldn’t speak her own fears. There was no way for Nora to possibly know where her sister was, what had happened, and if she would return. All she could do was try to stay strong and positive for an innocent five-year-old girl who had no idea what was going on.

  She’d spent twenty to thirty minutes with Sarah that afternoon telling her story as the detective wrote it all down. She’d had to shut her mind off about who she was talking to. Trying to forget was, of course, an impossible task.

  “So, you became a detective, huh?” she said, smiling as she rinsed the last dish and loaded it into the dishwasher. “You always were ambitious, Sarah.”

  ****

  Pueblo, Colorado – 1995

  “I am so sick of that woman, Shane,” Nora sighed, sipping her Coke. “I honestly despise her. She’s fairly okay with Shannon I guess, but she treats the rest of us like absolute shit.”

  “Yes, your dad unquestionably has some shit taste in women, that’s for sure. I mean, like what’s up with your mom? Who up and leaves her kids, especially when Shannon was all of what, like three?”

  “Shane, can we please not sit here and bash my mother? It’s already a fucked up enough situation as it is.”

  Nora’s high school friend looked away. “Sorry.” He dipped a couple French fries in his small paper cup of ketchup. “So, what are you going to do? Can you afford your own place?”

  Nora shook her head and flung her long, brown hair back over her shoulders. “Nope. I don’t get consistent hours at the library, and there’s no way I can leave my apprenticeship with Layla to go full-time anywhere.” She let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Well,” Shane said, wiping his fingers on the napkin that bore the fast food logo where they ate. “Darryl works with a chick who’s a rookie cop, and I know she and her roommate are looking for a third. The last guy moved out a month or so ago and they’re actively looking for someone to rent his room.”

  Nora rolled her eyes. “I do not want one roommate let alone two, Shane.”

  He shrugged, crumbling the wrapper that had been around his cheeseburger. “It’s an option. It’ll get you out of your dad’s place.” He reached for Nora’s purse and dug out a pen and random envelope. “Here’s Sarah’s number. If you decide it’s something you want to think about, give her a buzz. My brother said she’s really nice.”

  ****

  “So, obviously the place is furnished,” Dr. Daniel Liu explained, the second-year resident indicating the mismatch of furnishings in the living room. “All you’d need is your own bedroom furniture.” He led her through the small kitchen to a medium-sized room off of it, near the back door of the smallish three-bedroom house. “Now, this room does get more noise considering it is off the kitchen, but you do get your own bathroom.” The handsome Asian man showed her the empty bedroom. “It’s only a shower, so if you’re a bath kinda girl, the bathroom Sarah and I use down the hall is always an option if we’re not home. Which,” he added, “is often. I work crazy hours at the hospital and Sarah works the night shift at the police department, so when she’s home, it’s usually to sleep during the day.”

  Nora nodded in acknowledgment, looking around the bedroom. It was easy to imagine her stuff in there. In a way, she kind of liked that it was away from the other two bedrooms, felt more private. “What’s the rent?”

  “We split everything three ways from rent to utilities, so rent is two seventy-five and utilities average between fifty and sixty bucks apiece.” He gave her a winning smile and crossed his arms over his polo shirt-clad chest. “So? What do you think?”

  Two days later, Nora used the key Daniel had given her after she’d signed the lease and paid her first month’s rent to get into the quiet house. The first of the month was Sunday, but he’d told her it wouldn’t be a big deal if she moved in Friday or Saturday. So, Friday night found her moving her limited items into her new home. Tonight she’d be sleeping bagging it. Shane would help her move the bed and dresser from her dad’s house the next day.

  With a grunt, she took her last load into the dark house, only her bedroom light on to show the way. She was excited. She’d only met Daniel thus far and liked him
well enough. He seemed quiet and grounded, which was great. Though only nineteen, Nora was far too focused to be a party girl.

  She reached the bedroom and, once inside, dropped the overstuffed trash bag of clothing she’d been lugging and allowed her heavy backpack to slide down her arms and hit the carpeted floor. With a relieved groan, she adjusted her shoulders and rolled her neck. This was the third trip she’d made. The only thing left was her sleeping bag and a pillow.

  She hurried back through the house and out into the cool early autumn night to her car to grab the last of her stuff, only to realize it would take two more loads as the sleeping bag was so large and bulky.

  “Damn it.”

  Grabbing it up in both arms, she hurried back awkwardly to the house, leaving the front door open as she made her way to her bedroom and dropped the packed sleeping bag on the floor. Turning around to head back out, she nearly had a heart attack.

  “Freeze!”

  Her hands instantly went up and eyes grew wide as she was presented with a woman blocking the doorway, legs in a wide stance and both hands wrapped around a pistol. She was dressed in police blue, her badge and name tag glinting off the overhead light.

  “I’m a statue!” she said, barely daring to blink let alone breathe.

  “Who are you?” the woman demanded, not moving a muscle.

  “I’m Nora Schaeffer,” she said. “My wallet is over there in my purse by the backpack. I live here.”

  The woman relaxed her stance somewhat, lowering the pistol but not putting it back in the holster. “Are you the new roommate?”

  Nora nodded vigorously. “Daniel told me the house would be empty, so I could move in today or tomorrow if I wanted to. I came over after I got off work.”

  The woman grinned, securing her weapon before sliding it back home on her utility belt. She stood up straight and walked over to Nora with her hand extended. “Sorry about that. I haven’t seen him in the last few days, so I had no idea he’d said you could move in early. I wasn’t expecting you until Sunday. I’m Sarah.”

  “Nora.”

  “Do you need help with anything?” Sarah asked, looking around at the scattered bags in the room.

  “Nah. I need to grab my pillow and another duffel bag and I’m done. My friend and I will bring my bed and stuff tomorrow.”

  “Awesome. Well, welcome and again, sorry I scared you.”

  “Yeah, same here.”

  “Good night.”

  Left alone, Nora watched the policewoman go, noting a tall, shapely frame, her dark hair short and stylish. She looked to be a few years older than Nora and nice enough. She let out a heavy and tired breath before heading out for her final load of the night.

  Chapter Seven

  Jill sat in her car, which was parked outside the country club where she knew her father was playing golf. She honestly had no idea why she felt as nervous as she did, but she knew she had to talk to him, get his thoughts.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror before she exited the car, she saw that her hair and makeup were perfect, and the dangling diamond earrings her father had given her two years before were in place. Letting out a sigh, she opened her door and stepped out of the luxury sedan.

  She looked more like she was about to play tennis than drive a golf cart for her father as she made her way to the white sidewalk and the building. Inside was a health club, swimming pool, restaurant and bar, and locker rooms.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Lacey,” the receptionist said, her thin, red-painted lips smiling to reveal extremely white teeth.

  “Hello, Laura. My father is already out there, I’m guessing?”

  “I believe he’s out hitting some balls, Mrs. Lacey.”

  “Excellent.”

  Jill moved on, waving to various members of the community on the way. She and her husband, Andrew, had belonged to the country club for about four years, of course at the invite of her father. Larry Schaeffer was quite the fixture there.

  “Jill! Wait up.”

  Jill stopped and turned as she stepped outside behind the large building, tennis courts to her left, golf course beyond a copse of trees to her right. She smiled instantly and put on the charm.

  “Well, hello, William.”

  The tall, handsome blond reached her, tennis racket in hand. He was tanned and looked every bit the living Ken doll. He flashed his pearly whites at her. “I never got your call,” he said, resting a large hand against the brick wall a foot behind where she stood.

  “Well,” she hedged coyly, “maybe that’s because I never called you.”

  “But,” he drawled, “I thought you wanted a quote on the new landscaping in your backyard. Remember? We spoke about the pool, water fountain feature…”

  She glanced down at the gold cross he wore around his neck, visible in the open V of his white-and-blue-striped polo shirt. She reached up and ran her painted fingernail up and down the length of it. “I know but Andy is being cheap,” she said, sparing a glance up into his eyes. “He had the audacity to mention that we just had the kitchen redone.” She pouted. “So mean.”

  “I can certainly give you a good deal, and I do good work, you know,” he said, lowering his voice enough to send a little twinge to her belly.

  “I bet you do,” she said, returning his smile. “Why don’t you come by Wednesday afternoon, say around one thirty?” She dropped her hand from his cross and turned away, hips swaying enticingly as she headed to where she figured her father would be.

  She spotted him in a golfing outfit she’d never seen before, replete with baggy cotton pants, a pastel pink polo, and white golf cleats.

  “Nice one, Daddy,” she said, walking over to him once it was safe to not get beamed in the head by his club. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

  “Thanks, Jill. Not as smooth as I like, but hey, only my fourth hit of the day.” His leathery features broke into a smile as he gave a one-armed hug and kiss on her blond head. “You come to drive for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Where’s Andy?” he asked, loading his clubs into his bag so they could walk over to his golf cart, which he owned and kept stored in the clubhouse.

  “Oh, working on some new case,” she said, waving off the question. “But, when isn’t he?”

  “Well, he’s got to,” Larry, Sr. said with a laugh. “How else are men like us supposed to keep women like you lookin’ so good?”

  “Daddy,” she said, lightly pushing on his arm, the large man immoveable. They wandered on toward the golf cart, and her father loaded his clubs into the back before he hopped into the passenger seat, organizing his score sheet as she climbed in behind the wheel. As she got them moving, she glanced over at him a few times. She tucked her bottom lip beneath her upper teeth, trying to get the courage to ask.

  “So, how’re the party preparations coming?” he asked, glancing over at her briefly before reaching into the breast pocket of his polo to remove a pair of sunglasses, which he slid into place on his face.

  “Good. Really good.” She glanced at him again as she headed toward the first hole. “Daddy,” she began, “are you worried about Shannon? This whole thing?”

  “Nah.” He glanced away as he pulled his golfing gloves out from the small glove compartment of the cart. He looked at her, a smile on his face. “She’ll turn up.”

  “But, Daddy, she left Bella all alone.” Jill hit the brakes, bringing the cart to a stop.

  “So says your sister, who,” Larry, Sr. said as he climbed out of the cart, “I think is making a big to-do about nothin’. She’s jumping the gun and getting everybody all worked up over a weekend tryst.”

  Not sure what to say, Jill glanced out over the lush emerald-green sea of lawn before them. Slightly nervous, she cleared her throat softly.

  “Your youngest sister is a real beaut,” Larry continued, tugging the club free that he intended to use to tee off. “Who wouldn’t want to spend a long weekend with her, you know?”

  Again, Jill clea
red her throat. She sat and waited while her father set up his shot, wringing her hands in her lap. She winced when the large diamond of her wedding ring dug into her other hand.

  “Oh, that was beautiful,” Larry said as he watched his thwacked ball sail into the air. He walked back to the cart. “You know women leave, Jill.” He eyed her over the tops of his sunglasses.

  Jill looked away from him, hurt. “That’s unfair, Daddy,” she said quietly. “That was only two weeks and we were having problems.”

  “Yes, well”—he climbed back into the cart—“point still stands.” As they headed toward the second hole and her father’s ball, Larry, Sr. continued. “Like your mother, for instance. What the hell am I supposed to do with a damn kid, basically a toddler, let alone you guys? I’m a man. What the hell am I supposed to do?” he asked again.

  “Be a father?” Jill nearly whispered, shocked the words had come out of her mouth.

  “That’s women’s shit. I ain’t no damn caretaker!” He seemed to ignore her comment. “As a man,” he said, thumping himself in the chest with his thumb, “I bring home the money. Give a woman a house, all the shit she wants and give her something to do all day.” He glanced over at his oldest. “Not my job.”

  Jill turned away, not sure what to say. All she knew was she wasn’t there to talk about her mother who, twenty-five years before had packed up and left, but about her youngest sibling who had disappeared almost a week before.

  “Good luck on your shot, Daddy,” she said.

  ****

  Pueblo, Colorado – 1989

  Jill leaned over and gave her boyfriend, Chris, a quick kiss before climbing out of his white Fiero. “I’ll call you later,” she said, rolling her eyes as she glanced up at her family house. “So lame I have to be back so early.”

  “Yeah. See you.”

  She hugged her purse and bag with the new shoes Chris had bought her that day on their Saturday afternoon date then closed the door of the small sports car and trotted up the front walk of the family home, which the Schaeffers had moved into eight months before. The family had lived in Cherry Hills, a wealthy area of Denver during their father’s NFL career. He’d retired at the end of the previous season after an injury cut his thirteen-and-a-half-year career short.