“He is. And I’ve been told he has a criminal history. And now Alice’s backpack is here in his father’s apartment.”
Henry holds up a hand to me, trying to fend off my words. He wants all of his problems to go away at once. “What are you getting at?”
“Desmond,” I say.
“What about him?”
“He must have Alice. I believe he and his father worked together to kidnap her.”
“That’s a lot of guessing there. How do you know Desmond has Alice?”
“He has to. How else is she still missing? Why is my Bunny’s backpack here?”
I rush around the apartment and start tearing it apart, pulling items off shelves, swiping papers around, looking under pillows. There’s still the final piece of the puzzle to show to Henry, and it involves the one name I’m yet to bring up: Michael. I can’t connect Alan and Desmond to my ex-husband yet, but I will. Michael thinks he has made himself invincible by paying others to do his dirty work, but he is far from safe.
“Stop it!” Henry yells. “You’re making a mess of Alan’s apartment.”
“Either help me look or leave. You didn’t call the police when you said you had. You owe me.”
Henry shakes his head at me. “I don’t even know what you’re looking for. This has gone on long enough. I’m putting a stop to this shit right now.” He grabs hold of my arm and pulls me away from a stack of papers on a small table in the living area. They all fall to the floor and spread out. Henry continues to pull me back and away from the chaos.
“Let me go,” I yell. “I need to find something to point me toward Alice.”
“There’s nothing here, dammit.” He gets a good hold of my arms and yanks me away.
“Wait,” I say, freezing in place. I stare down at a single business card as it slides across the floor before me. It’s newer than the one I have in my handbag, but the name and contact info are still the same. “Pick up that business card,” I tell Henry.
“What?” he says. He maintains his grip on me but eases up, sensing my lack of resistance. He reaches out with his left hand and grabs the card from the floor. He holds it up to read it aloud. “Michael Walls. Attorney at law.”
I feel his grip release as his mouth falls open. He places both hands on the business card and mutters to himself over and over.
I brush myself off and stand back. Henry keeps his focus on the card. “What does this mean?”
“Alan has Michael’s business card. And he has Alice’s backpack in his apartment.”
“Why?” is all Henry can ask me.
Twenty
Henry stares at Michael’s business card. “Your ex is a criminal lawyer. Maybe he knew that and gave Alan the card in case his son ever needed it. And maybe the backpack just looks like Alice’s.”
I shake my head at Henry as we stand in Alan’s apartment, surrounded by the mess I’ve made. I leave Michael out of the conversation for the moment. “What business does Alan have with a small child’s backpack?”
“Like I said, maybe he found it and decided to keep it to hand in.”
“It’s hers. I know it is.” I try to keep my voice level as I curse myself again for not writing Alice’s name inside the backpack. I always thought people that did that were being overly cautious. I figured I could always buy her a new one if it went missing or got stolen.
Henry paces around Alan’s apartment, eyes on the floor as he clutches Michael’s card. Thoughts and ideas are rattling around in his brain, and I can see he wants to unload them on me. I don’t like where this conversation is heading. I need to steer him back on course.
I grab his arm gently. “Henry, please. I promise you that is Alice’s bag. I came here today with her to see Michael. He should have been here, but he’s nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s an ex-con across the hall whose father has had a major fall. He’s also nowhere to be seen. Doesn’t that sound odd to you?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know about his father yet.”
“Or maybe he’s staying inside where he is safe. My daughter went missing on this floor—a floor that has two maintenance workers on it with the know-how to rig an elevator to screw up at the right moment. Alan was in the lobby when I went up, and Desmond was on this level. That has to mean something, right?”
Henry stares into my eyes, his brow tight. He is torn between two possibilities. I have to convince him of the truth. He can’t abandon me now.
“And what about Michael?” he asks me.
I know I have to tread lightly. My next words could make or break my argument. “What do you think about Michael?” I ask, not trying to influence his thinking until I know where he’s at.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s weird that his card is here. If Alan and Desmond have anything to do with Alice going missing, it seems a bit too convenient that Michael isn’t home during a time when you were expecting him to be.”
“Exactly,” I say, a big grin across my face. “God, it pains me to think it, but I know Michael has done something. Something awful.”
“How do you know, though? What sort of person is your ex-husband?”
It’s a loaded question, one that can’t be answered in a few sentences, but I have to try. “When Alice was only six months old, we got a divorce. Six months old. He left me to handle her every problem like it was my responsibility and no one else’s.”
Henry shakes his head at me. Disgust wrinkles his forehead. I absorb the disdain he must feel toward Michael and know it is only going to get worse.
Michael forced us apart so soon after what happened; I can still barely handle thinking about it. That day wasn’t my fault. I never wanted things to go that way, but they did. I shake off the memory and got back to what needs to be said.
“After I came to accept that he was incapable of being there for us, I made sure the court knew he deserved to see Alice as little as possible. Despite his contacts and an army of lawyers, I sued him for full custody and won. He got weekend visitations set to one afternoon per two-week period. He did not take that well. To be honest, neither did I. Sure, it was good getting his beloved money to help pay for Alice, but those few poisonous hours he spent with her were more than I wanted my Bunny to be exposed to. I wanted him gone from our lives.”
Henry doesn’t say a word. He just listens. He’s only young and doesn’t understand what damage a determined person can do when push comes to shove. Maybe he had a good family or grew up with someone normal, but soon enough, he would see what families were capable of.
“Ever since,” I continue, “he’s treated his daughter like a possession to be reclaimed in small doses. He’s made subtle threats to take her away. I know that he is trying to show the system that I’m not fit to be a mother. I have to bust my ass every single day to prove I am a good mother, just to keep him at bay. I never thought he would take things to the next level, though.”
“The next level?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Henry keeps his eyes away from me, not wanting to hear the truth. “Don’t say it,” he mutters.
“I have to. Someone does.”
Henry focuses on me with all of his attention. I can see the realization brewing inside him. He sees it all coming together into one screwed-up piece.
“You think Michael arranged for Alan and Desmond to kidnap your daughter.”
The words fall out of his mouth and fill me with relief and dread at the same time. “I don’t just think it; I know it.”
“God,” Henry says, both hands twisted into his hair. “This can’t be happening.”
“I don’t want it to be the truth either. Any other possibility would be better, but here we are.”
Henry lets out a long sigh, both eyes squeezed shut. I feel my wrist begin to shake again, and try to steady my trembling arm before I lose control, hoping he doesn’t notice. He opens his eyes back up and returns his focus to me. We stare at each other as a heavy silence fills the air.
“Wh
at do we do now?” he asks, finally.
I turn around and look toward the door. “He could be across the hall.”
“Desmond?”
“Yes. And if he is, I’ll need your help to confront him.”
Henry grabs my upper arms again. “If he’s in there with your little girl, I guarantee he’ll be armed. We should call the police and wait for them to arrive. In fact, I’m calling them right now.” He pulls out his smartphone and dials 911, placing the call on loudspeaker a second later.
I shake my head, still furious he never actually called the authorities to begin with, but I have no choice but to cooperate with Henry. “I’m not waiting for anyone. Either you help me, or I go to him by myself.”
The receptionist from Stonework Village stares into my eyes as he faces the most challenging question he’s probably ever been asked.
“Hello, 911, what is your emergency?” a voice says over the speaker.
I walk to the door, not willing to wait for an answer that might never come.
“Erika,” Henry calls to me, as I reach the door.
I spin on the spot and face him, waiting for the next words out of his mouth.
Twenty-One
Henry disconnects the call to the police, a faltering expression in his eyes. He is going to try and talk me out of confronting Desmond. I squeeze my fists tight knowing that he still hasn’t called the police, but I can’t let him stop me from leaving. I need to show Henry that I am not afraid to die to get Alice back from Desmond, or Michael, or anyone else stupid enough to take my daughter away.
“Say it,” I blurt out. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I can’t let you do this. It’s too dangerous.”
I grip the doorframe, ready to bolt. Henry is a few paces away. I could get a head start and reach Desmond’s door before him. Unfortunately, he’d be right behind me and able to pull me away from the situation, giving Desmond enough time to run off with Alice out the fire escape.
“I’m not scared of him,” I say.
“You should be. If he’s what you say he is, then you could be putting yourself in danger. Is that what you want?”
I let a slither of silence edge its way into our conversation as I try to think of a solution. Henry is only trying to stop me from getting hurt for the sake of his job. He doesn’t really care about me. I need to do this. I have to.
“It’s not what I want, but I’m ready to do what it takes to save her. Alice’s life is worth more than mine. It always has been. It always will be.”
Henry takes a small shuffle toward me. I pull on the doorframe and step partially out of the apartment. Did he think I wouldn’t notice his less-than-subtle approach?
“What do you think you’re doing, Henry? I won’t let you stop me. Just stay out of my way.”
He holds up a palm toward me. “I’m not trying to stop you, okay? Just let me through first, so I can help you.”
He’s lying. I can detect it across his brow—a slight twitch. He’s planning on grabbing me the second he can, so I don’t run out the door toward Desmond. I decide to play his game and see where he is going with it.
“Okay. I’ll let you through.” I glance down the hallway for a quick second. We both know apartment 707 is down to the right from here. I step out into the corridor. “I’ll even move out of your way.”
“Don’t do it,” he says. “It’ll only take me a second to catch up.”
“I know it will,” I whisper.
Henry sees the pause in my step and knows I’m about to charge. What he doesn’t realize is my pivot is in the opposite direction. I run away, moving left instead of right, to the end of the corridor.
“Wait,” Henry calls out.
I peek over my shoulder and hear his footfalls behind. He’s taken the bait. I focus forward and dig deep, running through the mostly empty floor in an attempt to confuse Henry so I can confront Desmond on my own. I don’t need anyone else to help me. Not even the police. No one ever comes to my aid when I need them. Why should that change now?
Henry’s calls become muffled by the thick carpeting and walls of the corridors as I move around the corner and charge through the seventh floor. I’m losing him with ease as I sprint faster and faster away in the limited space despite the pain in my legs. Henry thought he could control me the way Michael used to, trying to convince me I didn’t have a say in the choices I made.
One of Michael’s most recent afternoons with Alice sits in the forefront of my mind as I stop and hide behind a support column. I think back to that day and how important it is now.
I met up with Michael at a café not far from his apartment. It was Michael’s day with Alice, so we completed the handover in a public place where no one could cause a scene. Or at least, a scene not as bad as it could be. The situation had such a tremendous potential for failure that we insisted upon a mediator being present in the café, waiting at a close distance, to keep things civil.
Michael only had his daughter for six hours every second Sunday, as agreed with the judge, but it felt like twice as long. I rarely ever brought Alice directly to his apartment. The building sent a shudder down my spine that could not be explained. Maybe it was the thought of it being the place where our relationship died.
As always, we sent Alice off to the corner of the café reserved for small children to play in. There was a short table with pencil markings all over it and a handful of half-broken toys. Alice sat down in a chair, her copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland out already set on the table. She flicked through the book and read out loud the sections she could recall by memory alone, blissfully unaware that her parents were about to have another argument.
“Why do we do this here?” Michael asked the mediator. “Surely there are other places more suited.”
“No, this is perfect,” I said, grabbing his attention. “You can’t yell out loud in this tiny space and ignore other people.”
“What do you mean? I don’t yell.”
I scoffed. “Right, so you’ve never publicly humiliated me just to get your point across? I didn’t realize. That must have all been in my mind.”
He shook his head. “Don’t talk to me like that, Erika. I am being perfectly civil and not trying to—”
I held up my hand. “Look, I’m not here for an argument. I’m here to get this pointless task over with so I can go about my life without these constant interruptions.”
“Interruptions? You can’t be serious? I—”
I stopped him again before his voice got louder than what was acceptable for a café. I could see it taking all of his self-control, but he bit his tongue to prevent further outrage.
“Fine. Have it your way,” Michael said. “Call this whatever you want to call it. I know the truth.”
“The truth? Please.” I turned away to my Bunny before I got into another fight with Michael. I watched her sweet eyes flicker over every word as her finger traced each line of text in her book. How could someone with such a beautiful soul come from two such flawed people?
I turned back to Michael. “I’m sorry for my comments. That’s not why we’re here. I have to remember that.”
“You know exactly why we’re here. You can’t avoid this, Erika.”
I grip my coffee cup a little tighter. “I know I can’t avoid this. I’m not trying to. I’m just saying I’m sorry, is all.”
Michael didn’t say a word or offer his own regret. He couldn’t handle apologizing to a person, even if it meant steering the conversation in the right direction.
I moved on. “I’m here today because I feel like this arrangement is no longer working.”
“No longer working? What do you mean?” he asked.
I huffed out my breath. I needed to be honest with him. “I mean this entire situation is nothing but a toxic experience for all of us. It needs to come to an end.”
Michael shook his head more than half a dozen times. “No. You don’t get to decide that. It’s out of your hands.”
“I know it is, but if you agree to do what is best and contact the court, we could all save ourselves the trouble and move on. We could do what’s best for Bunny.” I waved a hand toward Alice.
Michael twisted his brows and turned to study his little girl. He closed his eyes and dropped his head. He turned back to me and filled his lungs with anger. I could tell at that moment that the public space was not going to stop what was about to spew out of his mouth.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“No,” I said, louder than I wanted to. “You don’t belong in her life. You never did. I want you out of it. Why should she have six hours of every second Sunday ruined so you can feel like a father?” I was standing at this point. It took me a moment to realize, but everyone was staring, Alice included.
I sat back down and held my face in my palms, silently cursing myself for being the one to upset the peace. I slowly lifted my head back up to see Michael gawking at me like the rest of them.
“Are you done?” he asked.
“Am I done? I’ll never be done, you understand?” I kept my voice low enough for the patrons of the café to go back to their overpriced beverages.
“I understand, Erika. I understand all too well. But you know what? I’m done. I thought I could handle this mess for the rest of my life, but clearly I can’t.” He stood from the table in a rush, knocking over his half-filled black coffee.
“What does that mean? Are you going to leave us alone?”
Michael’s eyes flicked to mine, his lowered brow almost stabbing into the bridge of his nose. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Erika, life’s not that simple. Sometimes you have to accept the truth. I know things will never change between us. We’ve had this conversation a thousand times before. But maybe it’s time I finally made a change of my own.”
“What are you on about?”
Michael dusted himself off for a moment before he nodded at the mediator. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” Without another word, he left the café, cutting through the cramped room, leaving his daughter behind like a forgotten piece of luggage. He didn’t stop to look back or change his mind.
The Day I Lost You: A totally gripping psychological thriller Page 11