by M. S. Parker
Yet another reason I hadn’t been able to thoroughly enjoy the fact that I’d gotten a good lead on the other kids.
I just needed to remember to take things one step at a time. I’d do everything in my power to find every one of the kids, but it was going to be a long process. I couldn’t let myself get discouraged, or I’d never get through it.
I’d found her. At least, I was fairly certain that I had.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at my computer screen, reviewing the facts that Harry and twelve hours of research had brought me. I’d worked until the early hours of the morning, managed a couple hours of restless sleep, and then got up just after sunrise to continue working.
The girl had turned thirteen on August seventeenth. The name Marcy Wakefield was on the birth certificate, and the father had been listed as unknown. While the father’s race hadn’t been recorded either, Harry had been present when the girl had been handed over to Child and Family Services, and he’d been able to tell me that whoever the man was, he’d given his daughter milk chocolate skin and raven-black curls.
Harry had also told me that the girl had been named Stacey, and shortly before the adoption proceedings were concluded, her family told the social worker that they would be moving to Loveland, Colorado after everything was finalized. That had been the last he’d heard other than a general report the following year that she was doing well.
That information had been enough for me to find Stacey Johnson, daughter of Elliot and Roberta Johnson, a resident of a city less than thirty miles south of where her sister had been living for years. She was an eighth-grader in the local high school and had started an anti-bullying campaign that was now in its second year.
Those particular details had been revealed by something so technologically simple that I hadn’t needed to contact Jenna to do her hacking thing. I’d done a social media search. It’d taken a while to weed through all the possibilities, but it’d been worth it. Once I’d gotten everyone’s names, it’d been relatively simple to find an address.
Scarily simple, actually.
I was suddenly grateful that I’d never gotten into the whole social media thing. It would’ve been far too easy for reporters to track me down here.
I printed out the page and then looked at the time. Mid-afternoon. I was already exhausted, but I wouldn’t be able to rest if I knew I had this information here and Jenna had waited for years for it.
I texted her first to see if it’d be okay if I came by, and as soon as she said yes, I was in my car. I told myself I was doing this because I wanted her to know as soon as possible. It had nothing to do with the fact that it’d been three days since Jalen had told me to leave his house and he hadn’t made an attempt to contact me at all.
I supposed I could have reached out to him first, but considering that he’d chosen his wife over me, I felt I was justified in wanting him to come to me.
But that wasn’t why I was going to Jenna now.
And at some point today, I might actually believe it.
Jenna looked surprisingly calm when she opened the door, but once we were seated in the kitchen, I noticed that she kept fiddling with her sleeve. Specifically, the part covering her scar. The scar she’d gotten when she tried to kill herself as a child.
Was she wondering if I was going to give her bad news? Tell her that the people who’d adopted one of her sisters had done the same sort of awful things that she’d had done to her?
I’d had some really shitty stuff happen to me in my life, but even knowing the little bit that I did about what’d happened to her made my own background almost happy by comparison. At least I had twelve years of great family memories.
“I have some information for you,” I said. “Do you want me to tell you or do you want to read yourself?”
“Tell me.” She stared at her hands. “I’m not sure I could absorb it if I had to read it.”
I gave her everything I had, keeping things simple. I didn’t slow things down, but I didn’t try to rush through it either. She needed me to be solid if things hit her hard.
For the first time, I wondered if I should have waited for Rylan to be here to help her through it, but I knew I had to trust that she would’ve said something if she needed his presence.
When I finished, I leaned back in my chair and waited for her to process. I’d never done this before, been there for a friend. Not because I wouldn’t have wanted to be there for someone, but because I’d never had a friend like this. Clay had been the closest thing, but we’d never really talked about anything personal. Asking about his past had always felt dishonest to me, considering I didn’t want him to ask about mine.
I could do it now, I realized. I could ask him whatever I wanted because he already knew all the worst parts of my life.
“Stacey,” Jenna said finally. “I have a sister named Stacey.”
“I’m going to keep looking for the others,” I said. “When you’re ready, we’ll talk about the direction you want to take with each of them.”
“Does she know she’s adopted?”
“I don’t know. She actually resembles her mother – the woman who adopted her, I mean. She doesn’t look anything like Helen.”
“That’s a relief,” Jenna said. “I’m bracing myself to see a picture of one of them and see our mother looking back at me.”
I went on my phone and pulled up the picture I’d downloaded. “Here.”
Jenna stared down at the screen. “Those are her parents?” She smiled softly. “You’re right. She looks like her mom, only a bit darker. Same nose and chin.”
“Everything I’ve found on them so far has been great. A real solid family. I’ll take a closer look at them in real life, but it’s promising.”
“I’d like to meet her,” Jenna said suddenly. “Do you think her parents would let me?”
The hope in her eyes twisted my heart. I knew what it was like to want something so badly that it hurt.
“I don’t know. Do you want me to talk to them on your behalf?”
“I think that’d be best,” she said. “Don’t you? They don’t know that the name on Stacey’s birth certificate is fake. If I go, there will be questions, and I don’t think that’s the best way for me to introduce myself.”
“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll call them in a bit and set up a time to meet. I’ll let you know as soon as I get things scheduled.”
“Thank you.” She got up and got us both a bottle of beer. When she sat back down, she gave me a searching look. “Now, what’s wrong?”
I almost spit out my beer. “Excuse me?”
“You were very professional,” she said with a half-smile, “but I’ve gotten to know you over the last couple weeks, and I can see past that smile. What’s wrong?”
I swallowed hard at the lump that suddenly formed in my throat. I’d spent so much of my life having to do things alone. With Jenna, I’d never need to worry that she’d be freaked out by anything she learned about me, and she’d never push when I wasn’t ready to talk.
Unless pushing was exactly what I needed.
“Talk to me.”
“Jalen.” I took a long drink. “The short version is that we were together, his wife came over, and he told me to leave. He picked her over me and hasn’t called me for three days.”
Jenna shook her head. “Men can be such idiots.”
“Amen to that,” I muttered.
“Piece of advice from someone who fought against love.” She leaned forward. “Take it easy on him. It’s as hard for him as it is for you.”
Nine
I hadn’t given the Johnsons much over the phone, and maybe that made me a bad person, but I knew it’d be easier for them to turn me away if we were on the phone than when we were face-to-face. I’d abide by whatever their answer was, but I intended to make sure they at least heard everything I had to say first.
I was just glad they’d agreed to see me so soon. I was grateful for the distraction, and I didn
’t want to make Jenna wait any longer than she had to.
Their house was nice, I thought as I walked up to it. A good, solid middle-class family home. Stacey was fortunate to have grown up there.
It wasn’t until I was raising my hand to knock that I realized the impact my news was going to have on this family. I’d been so focused on what it meant for Jenna that I hadn’t stopped to think about Stacey or her parents. Telling them that Stacey’s half-sister wanted to meet her would change their lives, no matter what they decided.
Before I could knock – and before I could change my mind – the door opened, and a handsome Haitian man greeted me.
“Ms. Quick?”
“Yes.” I held out my hand, and he shook it. “Mr. Johnson, I presume.”
“Come on in.” He stepped back to give me room, and then I followed him into the living room where a pretty, dark-haired woman was waiting. “My wife, Roberta.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shook her hand as well.
Once we’d all taken our seats, Elliot reached over and took Roberta’s hand. The two of them looked like they were bracing themselves, and I hoped that what I had to tell them wouldn’t be as bad as what they’d clearly been imagining.
“You said you wanted to talk to us about our daughter,” he said. I could hear a faint French accent to his words. Or something close to French at least.
“I need to confirm a couple things first,” I said. I was almost one hundred percent sure that Stacey was Jenna’s sister, but I’d be a horrible PI if I didn’t verify. “Stacey turned thirteen on August seventeenth, correct?”
They both nodded.
“And you adopted her as a baby?”
They both stiffened, and I felt the mood in the room shift. They’d been worried before. Now, they were guarded too.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Roberta said tightly.
It was time to lay my cards on the table. “I’m a private investigator, hired by a woman who may be Stacey’s half-sister.”
They looked at each other before Roberta spoke. “The adoption was closed, and from the little we were told, it was arranged that way to protect Stacey from her biological family.”
“From her mother, yes. If Stacey is the young woman I’ve been looking for, then keeping her from any contact with her biological mother is a good thing. Her half-siblings, however, may or may not present any issues. I was hired to find all of Marcy Wakefield’s children.”
Roberta flinched as soon as I said the name, the last confirmation that I needed. “We don’t know anything about that woman or her family. We won’t put our daughter into that situation.”
“I understand,” I said as sympathetically as I could. I needed to be diplomatic here, take their very valid concerns seriously. “And I can’t vouch for any of the other siblings, but the woman who hired me, she’s a good person. She’s twenty-six, married with two adopted children. They have a comfortable life. She has no desire to complicate things with your daughter. She just wants to know her brothers and sisters.”
Elliot shook his head. “There must be some mistake.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson, but if Marcy Wakefield is Stacey’s biological mother, then she is my client’s sister.” I looked up at the family portrait hanging on the wall across from me. “She just wants to know her family.”
“We are Stacey’s only family,” Roberta said sharply. “It’s been thirteen years, and we haven’t heard a peep until now.”
I chose my next words carefully. Jenna hadn’t given me any restrictions as to what I could tell the Johnsons, but I knew if our situations were reversed, I’d want Jenna to be as tactful as possible. Then there was the fact that if I revealed too much, I’d bring Archer Enterprises into the picture, and I didn’t know enough about the two people sitting across from me to determine if they’d make any sort of meeting contingent upon payment. My gut told me they were decent people looking out for their daughter, but my views on parenting were colored by my past.
“Marcy Wakefield wasn’t her real name. She was in witness protection, and that was the new name she was given after she provided the Florida DA with the names of people who trafficked in some pretty nasty stuff.”
I’d let their imagination do the work for them. I didn’t know everything Jenna’s mother had done, but I didn’t doubt that it was far more depraved than what most people ever wanted to consider. Roberta’s face paled until I could see freckles that I hadn’t noticed before.
“My client is one of eleven children Marcy gave birth to, but the only one she kept for more than a few months. To guard my client’s privacy, I won’t tell you about the quality of her life in the thirteen years she was with her biological mother, but I will say that it is more horrific than you would want to envision.”
“Cher Dieu.” Elliot’s words sounded like a prayer.
I nodded. Dear god indeed. “It’s taken my client years to deal with her childhood, and now that she’s healthy enough to be a parent, she wants to be a sister too.”
“We never met Marcy Wakefield,” Roberta said, “but I’d always assumed she’d been an addict. Maybe a prostitute. But what you said…” She shook her head, looking as is she was searching for the right word.
“She’s in prison now.” I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. “I can’t go into details, but suffice it to say that she violated her agreement with the justice department and has been put away for a long time. You’ll never need to worry about her contacting Stacey.”
“We just need to worry about your client then, is that right?” Elliot’s tone wasn’t rude, but it definitely wasn’t friendly either. “Our daughter doesn’t know that she’s adopted, but even if she did, I wouldn’t want her to meet any of her biological family, no matter how together they are now.”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but the question popped out anyway. “Are you ever going to tell her?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, young lady,” Roberta said, lifting her chin, “but no. I have a cousin who was adopted and had been told so from moment one. When he was a teenager, it came between him and his parents, to the point where he would threaten to find his ‘real’ parents every time he didn’t like what they told him to do or not do. He’s twenty-seven now and has nothing to do with any of us.”
Shit. With something like that affecting her judgment, she wasn’t going to relent any time soon, and certainly not if I kept pushing.
“Thank you for meeting me,” I said as I stood. “I appreciate you talking to me, and I’ll advise my client regarding your decision.” I took a business card from my pocket and handed it to Elliot. “Should you change your mind, please call me.”
“We won’t,” Roberta said firmly. “I’m sorry you came here for nothing.”
So was I, especially since I had to go tell my friend that the one sibling I’d found was one she’d probably never get to meet.
This was going to suck.
Ten
I really didn’t want to do this.
If I didn’t figure out a way to get past how much I hated delivering bad news, I had a feeling Burkart Investigations wouldn’t last long. As much as I wished I could guarantee that I’d be able to solve every case I took on and do it in a way where no one would ever get hurt, it wasn’t possible. Hell, most of my jobs would consist of me telling someone that their significant other was being unfaithful. Not exactly the stuff dreams were made of.
I texted Jenna to let her know I was coming by, and she’d said that was fine. She didn’t ask what’d happened, and as I drove to her house, I wondered if she was trying to talk herself down from being too hopeful.
How shitty were our lives that we felt like we couldn’t hope for something as simple as a relationship with a sister?
Jenna and Rylan’s house impressed me every time I came. Maybe in a couple years, the massive mansion would just be my friends’ house, and I wouldn’t blink at the fact that my entire building could f
it inside the house. Twice.
“Rona, nice to see you,” Rylan said as he opened the door. His shirt was dusted with what looked like flour, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. “Come on in. The kids and I are making pizza for dinner. Can I interest you in joining us?”
The offer threw me. “Uh, I’m just here to talk to Jenna, but if this is a bad time…?”
“Not at all,” Rylan said with a smile. “It’s my turn to take care of dinner tonight, which means she’s either in the library with a new book or she’s taking a bath.”
“I’ll check the library first.” Since she knew I was coming, the library seemed like the best bet.
“Down the hall, second door on the right.” Rylan gestured toward the hallway. “If she’s not there, feel free to come back and help us with the pizzas until she’s out of the tub.”
I nodded and headed to the library, a massive room filled with more books than I could imagine reading in a lifetime. Jenna was curled up in a comfortable-looking armchair, a book on her lap. I doubted she was reading it though. Her expression was vacant, troubled, but as soon as she heard me, her head jerked up, her eyes wide.
“Hey.” Her voice sounded strained. “You made good time.”
“Traffic was light,” I said as I took a seat in the chair across from her.
“It’s not good news, is it?” she asked softly. “Did something happen to her?”
“No, no,” I rushed to reassure her. “She’s fine. Nice house. Good parents.”
The relief on her face was obvious. “I know you’d said that before but…”
“Looks can be deceiving,” I said. “I should know.”
“But you still have bad news.” She looked like she was bracing herself, and it killed me to know that what I had to tell her would hurt her.