by Mary Burton
“It’s another one.”
Faith’s heart leapt. “How did you find it?”
Kat looked almost offended. “What kind of detective would I be if I couldn’t find a basic picture?”
“Detective. Cute. More like a hacker.”
“Such a harsh term.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a picture printed on regular paper. “This picture is from a Dallas paper. When Josie was fifteen, she won a science competition.”
Faith held the picture, amazed at how already she was starved for details about this woman she’d only just learned about. The image wasn’t high quality, but she could see the young girl standing next to the mayor and the secondary school principal. The headline read “Foster Child Wins Science Award.”
A surge of outrage shot through her as she wondered why the reporter had defined Josie by her place in the social services system.
“Check out the headline,” Kat said.
“I see it.”
“She was pegged like me.”
“You aren’t pegged.” Faith’s attention shifted to the girl’s bright smile, her blond hair, and tall, lean frame. Grateful there was no trace of the sullenness found in Josie’s mug shot, she kept dissecting the girl’s features, searching for any clues about her.
“The second I saw Josie’s picture, I saw a resemblance to you,” Kat said.
“Do you think so?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She wrestled the excitement and sadness from her voice. “I wonder how she ended up in Austin.”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but I will. I’m also searching for siblings, aunts, uncles, etcetera. I want to find out where she ended up.”
Faith was surprised by how much she needed to believe that everything had worked out for Josie. “Any traces of her yet?”
“No, which is odd. Even back in the eighties, a.k.a. the Stone Age, people left some footprints. She left none. The world swallowed her up just like it’s trying to do to me.”
As quickly as Faith’s hopes for information rose, they fell. “Kat, you’re not going to be like Josie. The world is not going to devour you.”
Kat looked up with tears glistening in her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Because whether you like it or not, I’m not going to let it happen.” She drove across the gas station parking lot to the entrance, looked both ways, and pulled back onto the main road. She drove the car toward the medical park on the west side of the city.
“Why are you nice to me?” Kat asked.
Faith had never stopped to ask herself that question. “I guess I’ve always liked your spirit. You’re smart. A hard worker, when you care.”
Kat fumbled with the zipper on her jacket, flipping it up and down. “And I threw it all away when I got knocked up.”
“You haven’t thrown anything away. But we can’t ignore the baby. He or she deserves to be taken care of just like any other baby.”
“I didn’t say that it shouldn’t have a good home.” She continued to flip the zipper up and down. “The social services lady called again today. She wants to know what my plan is for the baby.”
“It’s a fair question. Babies are a lot of work, and you do need a plan.”
“I don’t want to give it to strangers.”
“Then you won’t. If you decide to find adoptive parents for the baby, you can meet them.”
“What if adoption screws up my kid?”
Faith arched a brow but kept her gaze on the road. “Do I look screwed up?”
“No. You’re pretty together.” Kat seemed to chew on their conversation. “How old were you when you were given away?”
Given away. It sounded harsh when Kat said it. “Days, maybe hours old, I think. I don’t know for certain.”
This new puzzle sparked interest in the girl’s eyes. “Why don’t you know your own story?”
“My mother didn’t tell me until I was eleven, and whenever I had questions, she made it clear she hated talking about it,” Faith said.
“What if I give my baby to a couple, and they don’t want to talk about me?”
“You choose people who will, and you have a legal agreement granting you regular updates.”
“Why didn’t Josie choose people like that?”
“I don’t know.”
Again there was more silence and brooding from the young woman in the passenger seat. “I can really do that?”
“Yes. Like I’ve been trying to tell you, you have a lot more control than you realize.”
Some of the tension eased from Kat’s shoulders. “I can keep digging for information on Josie.”
“Let’s just worry about seeing the doctor now. Then I need to get you back to the shelter.”
“I hate seeing the doctor.”
“Doesn’t matter what you want. It’s what you and the baby need.”
Kat’s doctor’s visit confirmed she and the baby were doing well. She was thirty-four weeks into her term and on course to deliver at the end of July. “An August baby,” Kat had quipped. “Probably going to be the hottest day of the year.”
They drove in silence back across town to the shelter. When Kat looked at the brick building, she shook her head. “I hate the shelter.”
Faith got out of the car and walked with Kat inside. She hugged Kat until the girl’s tense muscles relaxed a fraction. “It’s going to be okay.”
It wasn’t the first time she had regretted leaving the kid here. She had considered speaking to social services about fostering Kat but found she was just as afraid of committing as the girl was. No commitment had always worked for her. Hell, it was the cornerstone of her life, as well as her relationship with Hayden. But lately, instead of enjoying her freedom, she felt increasingly constrained and isolated.
Kat pulled away. “How do you know it’s going to be okay?”
An odd sense of worry and tension swept through her, but she still smiled. “It has to be.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Time Unknown. Maybe June.
Paige flexed her fingers in the darkened room, running a trembling hand over the slick pages of the magazine she’d written in. Writing without light, she doubted her words were intelligible, but it gave her comfort to write. The baby weighed heavily, and she could barely sleep at night now that all she had was the thin mattress lying on the concrete floor. An aching tooth was not helping, and since he had left, the baby had been constantly kicking, as if it knew its time was coming and it was scared shitless, too.
The manacle on her leg had rubbed her skin raw, and she could see the wound had begun to bleed.
When she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, she sat up and quickly tore out the pages with her handwriting, folded and tucked them in her bra. She shoved the magazine and pen under the mattress, her heart beating so fast she could barely think.
The lights clicked on, and she winced at the sudden stimuli onslaught. She blinked several times until her eyes slowly adjusted.
She looked up at him. He was frowning, something he’d been doing a lot lately. There had been a time when he had smiled at her. That smile, though welcome, was complete bullshit.
“Came to check on you, girl,” he said.
He came every few days and so far had never returned this early. She drew her feet up as far as the chain would allow. Did he figure out he’d dropped the pen? Or that it was hidden under her mattress? If he found the pen, the papers stuffed in her bra, or the magazines in the grate, she didn’t want to imagine what he would do next. “Why?” She spoke barely above a whisper.
“I was a little rough on you a couple of weeks ago. I lost my temper, and that’s not right.”
“I shouldn’t have hit you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“No hard feelings. You got grit, and I like that. Will be good for the baby.”
The nice words didn’t hide the fact his mood could turn on a dime. “I brought you a hamburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake. Didn’t know if
you liked chocolate or vanilla, so I guessed. Don’t all women like chocolate?”
“I love it,” she said, smiling.
Despite herself she edged to the end of the mattress. The burger and fries smelled good, and she was so tired of canned soup and cold cuts.
He unwrapped the burger and set the fries on the open wrapper. “Get it while it’s hot.”
She struggled to her feet and shuffled across the floor, making the chain rattle and rub. She took several bites and then drank from the milkshake. Chocolate. Soft. Sweet. It tasted so good she nearly wept.
“There was a woman. I saw her staring at your missing person flyer.”
“They’re still up?” She didn’t mean to sound so excited.
“There aren’t many left.”
He tried to downplay this bit of good news, but hope still clawed at her chest. Someone was looking for her? She kept her gaze on the fries, trying not to let her raised spirits show. “What did she want?”
“I couldn’t really tell. She can’t know about you. I’ve been extra careful with you.”
Paige knitted her fingers together so tightly the circulation nearly cut off. Could someone out there be looking for her? She had to believe, or else she’d go mad in this hellhole. “Are you worried?”
He leaned against the wall and surveyed the room. “How do you know I’m worried?”
“We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well.” She nibbled a fry.
“Maybe you’re right about that.” He nodded thoughtfully. “In here, I can be honest and be myself.”
In here, the lovely mask he wore for the world could be lowered. In here, the monster could roam free.
“I’m worried,” he said. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Worry has kept me a couple of paces ahead of everyone all my life. Worry is what’s going to get me through this last job.”
“I’m a job?”
“That’s right. My freelance job.”
“And when the job is done?” She picked up the burger and tore it in half, staring at the ketchup oozing out over the pickles.
“Like I told you, I’ll keep my word.”
“You’re selling the baby.”
He shook his head. “There are people that’ll be better parents than you. Besides, you said you didn’t want it.”
She’d been tired, depressed, and scared when she’d said that. Now, she was scared not just for herself but for the baby.
He inserted the key into the manacle’s lock and twisted. The metal loosened, and he gently pulled it off her ankle, leaving a raw strip of flesh in its place. “That’s got to smart.”
“It does.”
“I got some salve for that.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a tube of antibiotic cream.
She accepted it, fingering the fresh tube and wondering how she could use it to escape.
“Eat up, girl. That burger is getting cold.”
She’d been nauseated with morning sickness the entire pregnancy, and it felt good to have an appetite again.
As she ate, he took the tube back and spread ointment on his fingers. He motioned for her to hold her leg out, and when she did, he carefully rubbed cream on the worn skin.
His touch was gentle, and it shamed her that she responded to his kindness. She was so starved for people and affection that even her jailer’s touch was welcome.
“What if something goes wrong with the baby?” she asked.
“Don’t borrow trouble. That baby and you are going to be just fine.”
He was going to kill her. She’d feared this since the moment he’d locked her in here, but the instant she’d seen the initials on the back of the dresser, she’d known those women had not survived.
Without a word, he took her by the elbow and helped her to her feet. “Time to go.”
She cringed. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a better place than this. A bigger room.”
When she didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed her tighter and pulled her the rest of the way to her feet. “Let’s go.”
She dug her heels in. At least she was familiar with this hellhole. Here she at least had the pen and the two magazines containing the words of the other girls. “Where are we going?”
“Like I said, a new place.”
“I don’t want to die!”
He shook his head, grinning as if she’d lost her mind. “You ain’t going to die.”
Her belly felt heavy as she stood. “I don’t have shoes.”
“You don’t need shoes. You won’t be outside long.” Taking her by the arm, he pulled her out of the room, past her discarded cot still tossed against a cement wall, and toward a set of stairs. She glanced back at the room. Every night she’d dreamed of escaping it, but now that she was leaving, she was terrified. That room was the devil she knew, not the unknown hell about to come.
As she tried to keep pace with his long strides, her gaze swept the room. There was a washer and dryer and even some of her clothes drying on a clothesline strung between two posts. There were shelves stocked with canned food, baby provisions, and medical supplies. It could have been anyone’s basement. It looked ordinary. It was normal.
He yanked her and forced her up the stairs. She’d barely had any activity in the last few months and found by the time she reached the top stair, she was breathless with legs of rubber.
He yanked her through a kitchen equipped with avocado-green appliances that screamed 1970s retro. The smell of Clorox hung in the air.
“I’m afraid,” she stammered.
“No reason to be worried. We’re just getting you to a nicer room.”
“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell. I just want to go home.”
His fingers tightened around her forearm. Not painful yet, but close. “I could shove sleeping pills down your throat, but you don’t want me to do that. It’s bad for the baby.”
More questions sprang to mind, but she held them close, knowing he would make good on this threat. He always did.
He dragged her through a small living room covered in gold shag carpet and then out the front door. As her bare feet stepped onto the rough wood of the front deck, she was greeted by bright afternoon sunshine. Wincing, she had to look away from the sky, even as she savored the first lungful of fresh air she had inhaled in months. It smelled so sweet she nearly wept. Her face tipped toward the sun and absorbed every bit of its warmth. She’d been such a fool to take the sun, her mother, and her freedom for granted.
“No dawdling.” He jerked her toward his truck, opened the front door, and ordered her inside. She struggled with her belly and unsure legs. She was still breathless when she climbed up into the seat. “Put your seat belt on. Don’t want you getting hurt. And there are sunglasses in the glove box. Put them on.”
She clicked the seat belt in place. “Where are we going?”
“I told you not to worry. It’s a better place.”
“Like as in dead? Like heaven?”
He laughed. “Like another house.” He then pointed a meaty finger at her, and his tone changed instantly. “Get out of the car while I’m walking to my seat, and I will break your legs when I catch you. You hear me, girl?”
“I hear.”
He came around the hood quickly, watching her, and before she could map out or process escape, he was behind the wheel.
He started the engine and drove down the graveled driveway. She glanced back at the house, thought about the initials carved on the back of the dresser and the other women who’d been held there. Was this what happened to them?
“Don’t look so worried.” He flashed her that dazzling smile.
He slowed at a stoplight on the main road that she guessed was west of Austin, somewhere near the Hill Country.
They drove in silence, and she stared out at the clouds and blue sky. Soon side roads fed into smaller and smaller roads. She leaned toward her window as the first car she’d seen approached them.
“Sit lower in the seat,�
� he said.
When she didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm until she cowered down. They drove for almost a half hour, and soon the lights of Austin glistened around her. He exited the main road and took several rights and lefts before pulling into a little neighborhood and into the garage of a house.
When the garage door closed behind them, he shut off the engine and came around to her side of the car. He hauled her out of the car and into the house. She had barely seconds to register her surroundings before he dragged her down a set of stairs and toward another door. Another prison.
He opened the door and flipped on a light. “Go on, get inside.”
This space was half the size of the other. The bed was a twin, and there was no kitchen table but only a side table with a microwave and packets of noodles and bottles of water. There was a toilet in the corner, but no bath or shower.
“This place is so small.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t be here long.” He grabbed a chain from under the bed. “Sit down. I need to put this on you.”
“I don’t need a chain. I won’t run.”
He shoved her toward the bed and forced her to sit, clamping the chain around her other ankle. “You fooled me once. You should see the damn bruise on my arm. So that’s not coming off you until the baby is born.”
Death in childbirth was rare in light of modern medicine, but that was in a hospital with doctors, nurses, and clean sheets. “If I have it alone, the baby’s chances of survival are so much lower.”
“I got it worked out. It’s been a while, but I’ve delivered babies before. But you better hurry up and have that baby. If it doesn’t come in the next week, I’ll cut it out of you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tuesday, June 26, 6:00 p.m.
Hayden met Brogan at the Austin Police Department Forensic Science Division’s forensic lab. Melissa Savage, a technician who favored jeans, flats, and brightly colored Hawaiian shirts, greeted them. Her dark curly hair was wound into a ponytail, and several pencils stuck out at different angles.
“Gentlemen, come on back to the lab,” she said.
She walked with long, even strides as she led them toward a light table. She’d methodically arranged neat rows of Macy Crow’s belongings, which had been found in her backpack and in her pockets. Her bloodstained clothes, which had been cut away by the EMTs and emergency room doctors, were also present.