The Only One Left

by Pamela Beason

  “We’re making progress here,” he told them.

  He hoped it was true.

  Chapter 18

  Thursday

  At ten-thirty a.m. the next day, Grace watched Matthew Finn drive into her compound. She was glad to see him, but again, he wasn’t alone. He had a different woman with him, a blonde this time. Grace groaned inwardly. Her stomach felt queasy; Kanoni was developing a cold, with both a runny nose and diarrhea. Company was the last thing she needed. First, the attractive FBI agent, and now, another pretty woman?

  Grace felt like a grimy dishrag that had been wadded up and left to mildew on the kitchen counter. Had she even brushed her hair this morning? Her teeth? She ran her tongue around her mouth.

  When Finn introduced the woman as Robin Valdez, the mother of the missing girl, Grace’s attitude did an about-face.

  “I called you this morning,” he said. “I left you a voicemail message?”

  “Sorry, I must have left my phone in the house,” Grace apologized, patting her pockets for her cell phone. “I’ve been a little distracted.”

  The Irelands, he explained, parents of the luckier girl, had driven back to Bellingham this morning.

  “I saw the news last night,” Grace told the two of them. “That’s great that the other girl made it back.”

  Finn’s lips twisted in exasperation, and she touched his sleeve. “You handled it well, Matt.”

  The press conference had been like a celebration, with reporters cheering like the case was successfully resolved. Everyone wanted to talk to Darcy Ireland and her parents. Finn had abruptly ended the barrage of shouted questions from reporters by stepping up to the microphone and saying, “We are pleased that Darcy Ireland survived her abduction, but we must all remember that another girl, seventeen-year-old Mia Valdez, remains missing.” Then he shepherded the Irelands away.

  “Thank God Detective Finn was there,” Robin Valdez said. She was petite, and when she gazed up, Grace noted that beneath her carefully colored blond bangs, worry lines were carved into her forehead. She looked older than Grace would have expected the mother of a teen to be.

  Focusing on Grace, Robin said, “My husband Keith needed to go home. I know that seems cold, but we own a mail-order company, business cards and stationery and all that, and we have no staff. If we’re not filling orders, well, there’s no money coming in, and it’s been three days.” Her voice cracked on the last few words, and she forced a brief smile that ended up seeming apologetic. “So my husband is driving back today.”

  She clutched her hands together. “But I just can’t. I’ve got to stay close until they find her.” Robin’s blue eyes beseeched Grace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” What Grace didn’t understand was why Matt had brought Robin here.

  “Detective Finn”—Robin glanced briefly in his direction—“said you might be able to help me with a place to stay. I mean, we don’t know how long it will take before”—a shadow passed over her face, and her voice caught for a second—“Mia comes back. I can help you. I can cook and clean. I’m good with a hammer, and I’m even better with a computer. I can’t afford to pay much, but I’d be glad to help you however I can.”

  Help. Now there was a magical word. “You’re welcome here, Robin, for as long as you need. You don’t need to pay at all,” Grace told her. “As long as you’re willing to sleep in a bunk in that trailer.” She pointed toward the trailer that held her staff quarters. “Most of the time you’ll be alone in there.”

  “A bunk is fine. A bunk is great. Thank you so much.” Robin reached out to take Grace’s hand in hers. “But I need to do something, too. I can’t just sit around. Please, put me to work.”

  Grace shot Finn a look. Really? His lips formed a silent anything.

  She turned back to Robin. “How do you feel about gorillas?”

  Robin blinked. “Gorillas?”

  “I have three. They’re part of a psychology project. I teach them sign language and observe their communication.”

  The blonde’s chin jerked up. “Really? I know some sign language.” Then her expression sagged. “I learned it from my daughter Mia, when she was studying ASL as a second language last year.”

  Grace brightened. Sign language was a bonus. “So you’re not afraid of gorillas?”

  Robin touched Grace’s arm. “Hon, I volunteer with special needs kids, and some of them have a lot of ‘issues’ controlling themselves.” She enclosed the word ‘issues’ in air quotes, curling her fingers in the air. “Those kids seem like primitive species some days. How bad could actual gorillas be?”

  “You might be surprised.”

  “I’ll pay for my meals and anything else I can, and I’ll help you any way you need.” Robin turned to Finn. Bending to the small travel bag at her feet, she pulled out a sheaf of flyers. MISSING ~ MIA VALDEZ, with Mia’s smiling face and description on them. “But the first thing I’d like to do is put these up everywhere. Is there Uber or Lyft or some taxi service I can call to take me to a car rental place?”

  Grace’s heart twisted at the photo of the missing teen. What could that poor girl be going through right now? “You can borrow my van, Robin, for as long as you want.”

  “That would be wonderful, thank you.” Robin flashed a tired smile at Grace before turning to Finn. “And Detective Finn, you will let me know about each new development, right?”

  Grace saw a twinge of anxiety flash through Finn’s eyes before he replied, “I’ll be in contact whenever I have anything to report, Mrs. Valdez.”

  “Call me Robin, please. And thank you, Detective.” Robin picked up her small travel bag and held it front of her as she faced Grace. “And thank you, Grace. Any unoccupied bunk, right?” She headed toward the staff trailer.

  They watched her walk away.

  Finn rubbed his neck. “She’s holding up well, given what she’s going through. I’m so glad I’ll never have to worry about where my child is.”

  Grace flinched. Now he was glad he didn’t have children? She turned to him, rested her hands gently on his biceps. She always felt like it was wrong to hug Finn while he was wearing his gun. “You look like you didn’t sleep last night, Matt. Can you sit down, stay for a while?”

  “Afraid not.” He watched Robin Valdez open the door of the trailer across the yard.

  Turning to Grace, he gently pushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Thank you for taking her in. Let me know if she’s a burden.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course I’d let anyone in that circumstance stay here. It’s the least I can do. The staff trailer is hardly the Ritz. And I can use any help I can get.”

  “Wish I could give you some.” Leaning in, he gave her a quick kiss. The rasp of his whiskers told her he needed a shave. “But I’ve got to run.” He hesitated a second before asking, “Any more bones?”

  “Not as far as I know.” She shook her head and was immediately sorry as a wave of dizziness sloshed over her.

  Clasping both her shoulders, he studied her face. “You okay, sweetheart? You’re a little green around the gills.”

  Grace grimaced. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “You do look exhausted.” He traced a finger down her cheek.

  She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth. Exhaustion was only half of her problem. “You’re one to talk. You’re working too hard.”

  “Not a lot of choice right now.” His gaze bore into hers. “Robin really does need something to do with her time while she’s here; please let her help.”

  “I will.” The nausea rose again, and Grace pressed a hand against her stomach.

  Finn kissed her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, Grace, after this is over.” His jaw muscles clenched for a moment, and she knew that he was thinking about how long a missing persons case could take, and that there would always be yet another case to occupy his time. “We’ll take a vacation, get away together for a couple of weeks. We both deserve it.”

 
Like that would ever happen. “Sounds good.”

  “It’s a date.” Turning, he headed for his car.

  Grace bolted for the toilet and threw up.

  * * * * *

  Robin turned out to be a huge help. After she returned from stapling up her new flyers, Grace introduced her to the gorillas. Robin volunteered to chop and prepare meals for them and help with enrichment and entertainment activities. She was understandably nervous around the adult gorillas, but she showed Kanoni how to stack plastic rings on a peg and wear the largest rings as bracelets. Because the baby gorilla was subdued today, and she had an assistant to help, in the afternoon Grace decided that it might be a good time for painting.

  The two women set up the painting supplies on a low table in the outdoor enclosure, uncapping jars of bright acrylic paints and laying out canvasses and large brushes and a roll of paper towels. Grace placed the brushes inside the paint jars. Even Gumu came to watch.

  Robin anxiously observed the silverback’s approach until Gumu sat down a few yards away. She turned sideways to keep an eye on the huge male and the painting setup. “They really like to paint?”

  “They do. The hard part is to keep them focused so they don’t start hitting one another with canvasses or drinking the paint.”

  The gorillas edged closer to the table to inspect the supplies.

  “Why is the table so low?” Robin stepped back to stand closer to the fence.

  “You’ll see.” Grace handed Gumu a canvas. He sat on his haunches by the edge of the table, grasped the canvas with both of his hand-like feet, and then reached for a large brush in a jar of bright fuchsia and made a brilliant half circle on his canvas.

  Robin clasped her hands together. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I almost forgot.” Grace pulled out her cell phone. “I make videos of them creating the paintings, or at least part of each painting, so the buyer will know they’re getting artworks by real apes.”

  Kanoni grabbed a dry brush from the table top and put it into her mouth, and then spun in a circle. She tried to touch her brush to Gumu’s painting but the silverback elbowed her away. Grace, still focused on filming Gumu, grabbed the baby gorilla’s arm and, walking backward, tugged her to the other side of the table, then put the smallest canvas onto the ground in front of her. The little ape immediately chose a brush already dunked into bright yellow paint and jabbed it at her canvas. Robin pulled out her own cell phone and began to videotape Kanoni.

  Neema grabbed the remaining canvas, slid it down the table, and leaned over it. She seemed to carefully consider the possibilities, pushed the canvas into a vertical position against the table, then selected a large brush soaked in purple paint. As Grace switched position to record her actions, Neema brushed on a wide zigzag of purple.

  Kanoni scampered over and tried to steal the purple brush from her mother.

  Grace tolerantly pushed her away, led Kanoni back to her own canvas, set the yellow brush down on the table, dipped a new paintbrush in purple and handed it to the baby. Kanoni chirped with delight and made an oval shape on her canvas, partially obscuring the yellow jabs.

  Gumu picked up the discarded yellow brush and painted big swoops across his canvas.

  “It’s remarkable,” Robin remarked. “They each have their own styles.”

  Grace chuckled. “Well, they all paint abstracts. But they do have their favorite colors and shapes.” She turned from Kanoni’s painting to study Neema’s. “How about adding some blue or green, Neema?” She signed as she spoke.

  The mother gorilla placed her purple brush horizontally into her mouth, holding it with her teeth as she solemnly regarded Grace. Then she picked up a blue-dipped brush and made blue splotches on her canvas.

  “I do make color suggestions,” Grace explained, “but they make the paintings. You obviously have to monitor them, or these artists can get into a paint fight, and believe me, paint is not easy to get out of gorilla fur.”

  Gumu had switched to black, and Kanoni was trying to grab his brush again. Grace gave the baby a smaller brush filled with black paint. “I try to keep the paintings individual, one per gorilla,” she explained. “That way people are more likely to buy two or three paintings, whereas I’d only sell one if all three gorillas did one canvas.”

  “Fundraising?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I wondered who was paying for all this.” Robin held out her arms to indicate the compound. “It’s got to cost a lot to care for three huge animals.”

  Grace sighed. “It does. When Neema and Gumu were owned by a university, I had grants and paid staff, but since I purchased the gorillas, I have to rely on volunteers and donations. And internet sales of ape artwork.” She handed Gumu a green brush and stood back to film him some more.

  “You have a website?”

  “Yep. That’s how I sell the paintings.”

  “Mind if I take a look at your website?” Robin asked. “I am a wizard at online sales.”

  “We could definitely use some wizardry, couldn’t we, Gumu?” The silverback regarded Grace with his usual haughty expression, as if she were a servant who dared to speak to him. He handed her his paintbrush and then strolled back to the rope net.

  Robin picked up the painting he’d left on the ground. Black streaks slashed vertically through splotches of fuchsia, yellow, and green. “Bold use of darks to add drama, with brilliant touches of color. I’d name it Summer Storm.”

  Grace laughed. “You’re hired. Neema, what do you call your painting?”

  The two women regarded the results produced by the mother gorilla. Bright purple, yellow, blue, and green splotches, bunched together.

  “Neema never uses black,” Grace explained. “She’s an optimistic gorilla. Aren’t you, sweetie?” She patted Neema on the shoulder.

  Robin slumped and her face stiffened, and Grace knew she was thinking about her daughter. Maybe Robin and Mia had painted together. She was afraid to ask.

  Neema motioned with her arms. Grace translated as she copied the motions. “Yes, you’re a good gorilla.” Then she pointed to Neema’s painting. “What do you call this painting?”

  Neema pinched her fingers together and held them to her nose.

  “Flower?” Robin guessed.

  “Yes. She calls almost all her paintings flowers.” She regarded the mother gorilla. “Are you finished?”

  Neema twisted her arms in the air.

  “Finished,” Robin pronounced.

  Tree candy me, Neema signed.

  Robin’s brow wrinkled. “I didn’t catch that.”

  “She’s asking for a lollipop, that’s her favorite treat. No tree candy,” Grace signed as she spoke.

  Juice.

  Robin said, “I did understand that. Juice, right?”

  Grace nodded. “Juice, in a minute.” She picked up Neema’s painting.

  “You finished, Kanoni?” Robin asked the baby gorilla, signing the word for “done.”

  The little ape regarded her solemnly as she chewed the end of the yellow paintbrush. Snot ran from her wide nostrils down over her upper lip. Robin wiped it off with a paper towel. After a few seconds, Kanoni signed juice juice juice.

  When Robin held out her hand for the paintbrush, the baby gorilla placed it into her hand, bristles first.

  “You’re a natural,” Grace observed.

  Robin wiped her hand on a paper towel, and then picked up Kanoni’s painting and brushed the dirt from the edges. “They may be big and strong and hairy, but they’re children, aren’t they? I’m used to dealing with children. I had . . . four of my own, you know.”

  Grace put a hand on the other woman’s shoulder.

  “Thank you for sharing your family with me,” Robin said softly.

  “Thank you for understanding they are family.” Grace brushed her hand across her belly for a second, then busied herself putting the paintings in the drying rack and helping Robin wash out brushes and cap the paint jars. “You’ll want to wash you
r hands. Kanoni seems to be getting a cold.”

  “Can I use your computer for a couple of hours?” Robin asked hesitantly. “I want to check the Facebook feeds on Mia’s page; it’s so hard to do on a cell phone. And if it’s okay, I’ll post a couple of photos on Instagram and Snapchat and Twitter.” She swallowed hard. “To remind everyone to keep looking. To keep thinking about her.”

  “Of course.” A lump formed in Grace’s own throat. Why hadn’t she thought to offer Robin the use of her computer? “Anytime. You don’t even need to ask.”

  “And I can look at your website. And if you lend me your cell phone, I’ll put these painting videos together for you.” She held out her hand.

  Grace handed Robin her cell. “That would be fantastic, but you don’t need to do all that.”

  “I do. It helps me; keeps me from thinking too much.”

  While Robin used the computer, Grace dared to take a nap. When she got up, she found the older woman sitting on the porch steps of the staff trailer, sipping a glass of water and silently crying.

  As Grace approached, Robin hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks on her shirt sleeve. Her cell phone buzzed. She glanced at it and tapped in a message. “Darcy again,” she explained. She stood up, squeegeed the moisture from her eyes with her fingers this time. “Excuse the tears. Just thinking about Mia and feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You’ve got a right.”

  “Mia’s the only one left,” Robin murmured. “If I lose her, too, I don’t think I can stand it.”

  Grace studied the other woman’s face, afraid to ask.

  “Detective Finn didn’t tell you?”

  Grace shook her head.

  Robin volunteered, “Keith and I lost our three older children in a car crash.”

  “My God.” Grace dropped to the steps beside Robin and put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I can’t wrap my brain around that kind of tragedy.”

  Robin took a deep breath. With her gaze focused on the ground, she said, “Jared had just turned eighteen. He was driving. And he had his brother and sisters with him. Justin and Julie were sixteen and fifteen. And Mia was in the back, too. She was only five, and she was strapped into a child seat.”