But Michael was never happy with where he was at the time. He always thought about where he should be and how he could get there. I wasn’t sure if it was a byproduct of being a lawyer in a firm filled with ruthless sharks or if he genuinely desired that life for himself and our unborn child. All I could hope for was that when this baby arrived, he would settle down and remember there was more to being a parent than making a lot of money.
I dropped into a daycare center to inspect what the facilities and the staff were like. Michael had told me not to bother looking at any options as we would never need childcare with me at home all the time. While I appreciated the idea of always being there for my child, I also wanted to show our baby that both parents worked hard in and out of the home. It was nice not having to worry about money or commuting each day on the subway, but I also missed the social interaction.
I had worked in a corporate office in Lower Manhattan doing administrative duties. The job itself was boring and repetitive, but I loved the personalities there. They were the main reason I’d stayed as long as I had. When Michael convinced me to leave, I knew it wouldn’t take long for me to wish I hadn’t agreed to the idea. I missed the job every day, despite not having the anguishes that came along with the territory.
I arrived at the daycare, which was located on the first level of an old church. There wasn’t much space in the neighborhood, so daycares were often built wherever they could be. The location didn’t concern me. I used to go to church a lot in the past, but had half given up on the idea of religion when I became an adult. The people running the daycare had decorated the rooms in such a way that you had no idea it was ever anything else.
“Hello, Erika,” one of the staff members of the facility said, as she met me for a guided tour. We shook hands and walked through the building. I was shown all of the areas the children would be using and fell in love with the place in an instant. Some kids were playing with paints as I went through. I took the opportunity to practice my happy adult voice. It was something I needed to get used to.
“Hello, there. What are you working on?” I asked a little girl with several teeth missing.
“I’m painting my mommy and daddy,” she said proudly. I could just make out the blobs of color that represented the nuclear family of two parents and two children.
“That’s very pretty,” I said as I squatted down.
“Do you have a baby in there?” she asked, before I could call out anything else I liked about her painting. I looked down to see her pointing at my belly. My bump was hardly noticeable. I was impressed she could even see it.
“Why, yes, I do.”
“I remember when my mommy had my brother in there. He took a long time to come out.”
“Did he now?”
“Uh-huh. And when he did, he had to stay in the hospital for a while to get better.”
My mind flicked to the many possibilities of pregnancy and labor. It was terrifying, knowing that anything could go wrong at any time during the entire ordeal. This little girl didn’t mean any harm, and I was generally capable of putting such thoughts out of my head until someone mentioned it, but lately, I could only focus on the ‘what ifs’ that kept me up late at night. I would conjure up the most ridiculous thoughts on what might go wrong during childbirth.
“Did he get better?” I dared to ask, while the staff member stared at me to stop interacting with the little girl like she was poisonous. I shrugged and refocused.
“Oh, yeah, of course. Mommy told me he would. Mommies know best.”
“They do, don’t they,” I replied. What else could I say?
“That’s enough, Chantal. Mrs. Walls needs to see the rest of the building.”
“No, it’s okay. Chantal can tell me all about her mommy if she wants. She sounds like a clever lady.”
“She is,” Chantal said, in as convincing a voice as a little girl could muster.
I chuckled and gave her a few more minutes to tell me her life story while the daycare worker grew more impatient.
“Well, I’d better be going, but thank you for your time, Chantal. You enjoy your painting, okay?”
“I will. Are you going to stay for story time?”
I glanced at the staff member. “Is that okay? I’d love to see how it all works.”
“Sure. Why not?” she said with a shrug. I guessed the typical prospective parent didn’t get this involved in the place on a visit.
I sat back as the kids all gathered around in a small circle. There weren’t many of them, but I liked the small-group approach. It felt less intense for all involved. It was better than being thrown in with a vast number of children.
The other daycare worker pulled a book from the small library they had on hand. “Today we are going to read an old book called Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”
I listened along with the children, smiling as I paid attention to every word and detail. I remembered reading the story as a child and loving it.
Before I left, I put down a non-refundable deposit with a rough timeline for when our child would use the facility. I didn’t need to see any other places. My child would go here and grow up in the neighborhood. He or she would come to this building one day and be read that book and make paintings to show off our perfect family.
When I left the building, I was surprised to see Michael hopping out of a cab in front of me. “Honey?” I asked. “What are you doing here?” My heart thudded in my chest.
“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you wasting time looking at this dump?”
I glanced around the street and back to him. “Did you follow me here?”
“No. I saw the appointment written on your calendar this morning. I came here to make sure you didn’t put any money down on this place.”
“And what if I have?” I asked with crossed arms.
“Then you’ve wasted a deposit, because there is no chance our kid will ever go here. They won’t need daycare.” He grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me toward the idling cab. Had he paid the driver to wait? What the hell was I witnessing?
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Taking you home. You shouldn’t be out, getting stressed like this. You should be at home, taking it easy. You need to think of the baby and not just yourself, for a change.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. I’d never seen this side to Michael before. The pregnancy and his new job were starting to do strange things to his personality. Did he even see me as anything more than the place where his baby was growing? I didn’t like it.
“Stop, Michael. I’m not getting in that cab with you.”
He released me the second I told him to. “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back from me. Had he snapped out of some kind of insane trance?
“You should be. I don’t appreciate you keeping tabs on me. It’s weird. It’s not like you to do this.”
He shook his head. “I know. I’m just so worried about the baby. And you, of course. And when he or she comes along, I don’t want you shoving our child into daycare, just so you can go back to that job of yours. There’s no point.”
I let out an audible huff. “There is a point, Michael. One you cannot see. I miss working. I don’t want to be one of those people who has a baby and gives up on their previous life, okay? You’re just going to have to deal with it.”
He stared me down in silence and lowered his head. I could see some remorse in his eyes. “I’m heading back to work. Can you please just promise me you’ll take it easy for the rest of the day?”
“I’ll go home right now if you promise never to pull anything like this again.”
His eyes focused on the sidewalk, avoiding me at all costs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll never do anything like this ever again.”
Eleven
Now
“What are you doing?” Henry asks me as I head to the stairwell entrance.
I shake my head at myself for not realizing he would follow me. I c
an’t tell him about Alan, can I? He doesn’t know the situation enough to believe me. At least not until I have some proof.
“I’m going back up there to find her. I can’t sit around waiting for the police. She needs me now.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? The police will want to talk to you when they arrive. At least give me your cell number so I can call you.”
I stop and turn to him. “I lost my phone up there. You won’t be able to reach me.”
Henry lets out a huff. “Fine. Take this, if you insist upon going.” He pulls an old cell phone out of his pocket. It’s not the one that had distracted him so much when I arrived. That must have been his personal cell.
“Thank you,” I say, as I take it.
“Please don’t lose it. It belongs to the company. The passcode is five four three two. If Alice shows up, I’ll let you know, okay?”
“Got it,” I reply as I pocket the device. “Is that all?”
Henry huffs at me and shakes his head. “I’ll buzz you through the door when you’re ready. Please be mindful of the residents with your search. They pay good money for their privacy.”
“Fine.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. I don’t care if I have to annoy every person in the building. I am going to find Alice or someone who knows why she suddenly disappeared, someone like Alan.
* * *
I open the stairwell door to the seventh floor and see the empty corridor staring back at me. Left or right, the path appears to be the same. Repeating layouts of support columns pressed against the walls and apartment doors line the way, shrinking in size down to the end of the corridor. I don’t know which direction to go in, so I start by walking right.
I don’t have time to wait for the police to arrive. It will be too late by then, especially if my suspicions of some kind of foul play against my Bunny are correct. The thought stings my eyes and sends a shiver down my spine that I can’t shake. I’ve already lost too much time because of Alan screwing with me. He sent me on a wild goose chase, knowing that I wouldn’t get very far. Was that part of the plan? I bet he didn’t account for Michael’s neighbor being around to spill the beans. What would have happened if I hadn’t run into her? Thank God she was there.
I knock on the first door in a hurry, shuffling on the spot as I call out. How many apartments are there on this floor alone? How long would it take me to knock on every door in the building? I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes. I pound the wood again and again, but hear no response. No one shouts out that they are coming. I move on to the next number.
I knock on a few more doors and get no response. Alan must have been telling me the truth about the lack of occupants in this level. I know he lives on this floor, but what I don’t understand is why he would be privy to such information. Is he still keeping notes on the building and who lives in each apartment? It seems kind of odd that he would do such a thing.
I keep knocking, calling out and waiting. I get the same silence in return, until I’ve almost reached the corner and can hear sounds of life inside one of the apartments. I knock on 707 and listen as a person inside responds to my interruption. A man is muttering away to himself like I’ve spoiled his entire day. Again, I tell myself that people don’t knock on apartment doors in a building like this. Even in these lower levels, reception calls or buzzes their intercoms, and I don’t fit the profile of someone who has business being halfway up a building crammed full of private residents. I need to keep as calm as possible. Easier said than done.
I see the light blank out on the peephole of the door. I’ve missed my chance to hide away from whoever is inside the apartment, currently staring at me and sizing me up. The door creaks open a few inches. A bald man lowers his head from up high and levels a single eye out to get a proper look at the person who has disturbed his sanctuary.
“Who the hell are you?” he asks me, his voice muffled slightly by the door.
I stare, like a deer in headlights, my mouth agape. I pray he doesn’t yell at me. “I, uh—”
“Out with it. What are you selling? What’s this about?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he asks. I can see his thick brow rising with concern.
“No, I mean, I’m not selling anything. I’m—”
“Then what? You’re clearly not supposed to be here, so speak your business or leave me alone.”
My eyes close as I try to block out his anger. I can feel it spilling out of the apartment, radiating into the corridor. I fight against it despite the dizziness it causes me, not letting this man slow me down.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I say, exhaling. “I’m trying to find my little girl. She went missing on this floor. Have you seen her?”
The man’s expression shifts in surprise at the very mention of a little girl. He turns his gaze back to his apartment with a snap, as if someone is in there with him, and then faces me again. “What do you mean, ‘missing’?”
I don’t want to tell him that I suspect people in the building have kidnapped a little girl. It’s too much to put out there without any evidence. My dry mouth falls open as my forehead wrinkles. “Missing. Exactly as it sounds. My daughter ran off on me after the elevator screwed up and half opened to this floor. I can’t find her anywhere. I was hoping that you might have seen her come by.”
The man says nothing and continues to stare at me. His gaze drops to the floor in thought for a brief second. “Did you call the cops?”
“The man on reception did for me. He said they’re on their way, but I don’t have time to waste waiting for—”
The door slams hard. Even though it was only open a few inches, I felt the blast of his powerful arm. I knock again, as loudly as I can. All I hear in return is a muted “Go away.” I step back and try to work out what this man’s problem is. Why did he get all bent out of shape all of a sudden?
My hands fly to my face as the obvious comes to mind. Camille’s words rattle around in my head. One of Alan’s neighbors on level seven is an ex-con. This has to be him. Why else would he freak out at the mention of the police?
I find myself unsure what to do with my discovery. Could this man have had something to do with Alice’s disappearance? I try to contemplate again why Alan would risk his own place in this building just to help such a person rebuild their life. Is he a saint, or is he merely after a criminal connection?
I stumble backward and bump straight into someone. I feel two strong arms wrap around me to stop the two of us from falling over.
“Miss Rice. Are you okay?” Henry asks.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine, thank you,” I say, as I stand up on my own and brush myself off. I see the elevator doors sliding shut. I hadn’t noticed it opening. I walk a few paces down the corridor to lead Henry away from apartment 707.
“You haven’t been answering my cell,” he says as he follows.
I pull out his phone and see it is on silent, with several missed calls. I didn’t think to check. “Wait a minute. Why? What’s happened?”
“The police called me back.”
“They called you back?”
“Yes. A dispatcher informed me that there could be a significant delay before any officers arrive.”
I close my eyes for a second, trying to understand. “Are you telling me they aren’t coming?”
“Not exactly. They are coming, but they’ve been held up. Apparently, there has been a major gas leak downtown. As many officers as can be spared have been sent to assist with the emergency.”
I stare down at the floor and try to contain what’s building inside me. How could this day get any worse?
“I’m sorry, Miss Rice, but there was nothing I could do. Unless this situation is worse than it seems, I’m afraid we will just have to wait for them to arrive.”
“It is worse, though,” I say. I still don’t know if I can tell Henry, or anyone else for that matter, about my strong suspicions regarding Alan, and now Alan’s neighbor. I have no way of
proving that they had anything to do with Alice disappearing, but something in my gut is screaming at me to take notice.
Henry’s mouth hangs open as he tries to think of what to say to me. A fine layer of sweat covers his brow.
“Why don’t you come back down to reception with me? I’m sure Alice will turn up before the police arrive. Alan will find her.”
I brush past him. “No, I can’t. I need to find her myself, before it’s too late.” I head back down the corridor and past the elevator as Henry follows me.
“What do you mean, ‘before it’s too late’?”
I ignore the question and begin knocking on another section of doors.
“Miss Rice, I can’t have you up here harassing our residents like this.”
“Harassing? I’m trying to find my little girl.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t have you or anyone else banging on doors. Until the police arrive, I’m going to have to ask you to stay put in reception.”
I scowl at Henry. “You’re joking, right? Do you honestly expect me to go along with that?”
“Maybe it would be for the best.”
“How? How is it for the best? If I’m not out looking for Alice, then no one is.”
“Alan is still out there somewhere.”
“Alan?” I scoff. “Alan was heading down the stairs from here to supposedly search for Alice. He should have shown up in the lobby ages ago.”
“I’m concerned about him as well, Miss—”
“I don’t care about Alan,” I say, cutting him off. “I just want my daughter found.”
Henry reaches out a hand to calm me down. I flinch back. “Please don’t touch me, Henry. I swear to God…”
“Okay,” he says, backing up a step. “It’s all good. I just want you to come with me to the lobby so we can talk about everything.”
I shake my head at him. What else can I do? Henry is just trying to keep the peace.
“Right this way,” he says. I follow after he takes a few steps, shaking my head.
The Day I Lost You: A totally gripping psychological thriller Page 6