“I don’t think my mom is going to like this,” he said. “But I sure do.”
“She’ll get over it.” She ran her hand down his chest, intrigued by the ripple of muscle beneath his T-shirt. “I am seventeen.”
“Still at that in-between age. Not an adult yet, but no longer a kid.”
Lauren smiled up at him. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve lived a million lifetimes. My mom says I was always that way. A wise old soul.”
“A Yoda. Stand not in the shade when the sun brighter shines,” Jazz said in a squeaky voice. “Or something like that. Yoda always talks in puzzles.”
“I know. I used to be a sci-fi nerd.”
He blinked. “Really? Wow. We’ll have to get you up to speed with recent releases. And the Iron Man movies. Have you seen any of those?” When she shook her head, he added: “You’ve got some movie marathons in your future.”
“Sounds good.” As she leaned against his chest and breathed in the smell of leather and soap, she wondered about Jazz’s place in the purple light of the future. She knew he would always be her friend, but she wanted more.
How high can you soar? Her parents’ words emerged from her memory. And what was her answer?
To the stars.
Chapter 52
Lauren gaped at the jailhouse corridor that loomed ahead of her, a dead chamber with floors and tiled walls that shone. It had taken a week for Chief Todd to set up this meeting, a week of anticipation and dread. Now that the time had arrived to meet her abductor, Lauren’s resolve was weakening. Her legs trembled, and her chest felt so tight it was difficult to breathe.
“This is really scary,” she whispered as she waited her turn to walk through the metal detector.
Dad turned to her, his eyes reading her anxiety. “We got this,” he said. “Just follow me.”
She passed through the metal detector behind him and nearly fell into his arms. Why were her legs so wobbly?
“Remember what Wynonna said about fear?” Dad asked. “It’s there for a reason, and we don’t always have to look it in the eye. Now walking through here, it’s going to be just like the exercise we did with Hero. You’re going to keep your head down.” He slipped an arm around her. “Just hold on to me, press against my chest, and I’ll guide you, okay?”
She looked over at Mom, who was nodding. “Hold on to your Dad. We’re going to stick with you, honey.”
Lauren closed her eyes and tried to think of things that calmed her. The sound of her sister’s breathing at night. The mountains that sat guard at the edge of Spirit Ranch. The nickering sound of horses. Diamonds of sunlight on the lake. When she closed her eyes and pressed against Dad, she could almost block out the guards’ voices, the buzz of alarms, the click of high-tech prison doors. It wasn’t so much the idea of prison that scared her as the knowledge that he was here. He was the fear she did not want to face.
But Dad kept her safe as long as he could, until they landed at the meeting room. The therapy trick they had taught Hero worked. The only problem was that it didn’t make the danger disappear.
And so she sat at the table, half-listening as the guard explained that her parents would be watching from behind a two-way mirror, along with the prosecutor and Kevin’s lawyer. There would be a guard in the room with them, so she didn’t need to worry about Kevin hurting her. That was what the guard told her. Didn’t he know? She wondered. Couldn’t he see that the damage had been done?
Goose bumps pricked her upper arms as she heard their footsteps at the door. She pulled her black cotton sweater closed and folded her arms, bracing herself.
A sliver of revulsion sickened her as he walked in, hands cuffed behind him. He had gained some weight and was growing a beard that made him resemble a billy goat. Or maybe the devil. The guard pulled out the chair for him and pressed his shoulders to guide him onto the chair.
That was when he snagged her with his eyes. Cold, piercing eyes. “I knew you would come.”
“I’m here for Mac.” She would have liked his apology, too, but she had discussed that with Wynonna and realized it was highly unlikely. No, she would stick to her mission to save her daughter. “Where is she?”
“Where is she?” he mimicked. “Is that how you say hello? Don’t you want to tell me how much you miss me, Sis?”
The old name, the name he had given her, pierced her resolve like a fat thorn.
“Why did you sell her?” she asked. “If you couldn’t afford to take care of us, you could have let us go.”
“It wasn’t about that. I wasn’t the one who let Mac down. It was you. You didn’t know how to take care of her. Letting her roam around in dirty clothes. Getting her so sick she needed to go to the hospital. You were a god-awful mother.”
Lauren wanted to argue that it wasn’t true. She’s been a good mother; she knew that now. But then she remembered the way Kevin had won every argument they ever had, because he was in control. Right now, she couldn’t give him control. She was here for Mac. It would be great if she could also get closure, but she was not going to get it by fighting with Kevin Hawkins.
“So it was all on you, Sis. If I took it to court, I think what they’d call you is an unfit mother.” He spoke with authority, as if he really could have filed a case against Lauren. Now she could see how ludicrous it was, but three months ago, she would have believed him. “You gave me no choice. I gave Mac away to save her life.”
“You sold her.”
“Just some cash for my troubles, is all. And I set her up good with a mother older and wiser than you. Someone with the money to take good care of her.”
“Who?”
He swatted the question away. “I set her up good and made some money in the process. I was supposed to sell her for five grand, but I had to settle for less because she didn’t have a birth certificate. I shoulda printed one on Aunt Vera’s computer, but I didn’t think of that.” He shrugged. “Woulda-coulda-shoulda.”
“Did your brother sell her for you? The one in Utah?”
He squinted at her. “Now where’d you hear about Steve?”
She stared at the table, not wanting to think about the gross people who’d come through this room. “The police have been investigating you.”
“I bet they have.” He shifted in the chair, wincing. “Damned cuffs. Yeah, I was thinking about using my brother. Did you know they call Utah the sewer pit of the adoption industry? Nobody cares about the babies moving through that system. I was going to let Steve take her there and make the sale, but then Mac got sick, and even with the antibiotics, she was crying and coughing like crazy. Steve backed off. Hell, everyone backed away.”
“Like Eleanor Haggart?”
“Well, aren’t you Nancy Drew? Yeah, Eleanor got cold feet. ‘No birth cert and now she’s sick? Forget it!’ ” The mimicky voice again. “She was in the wind.”
He was dragging this out, painfully, and Lauren wanted to cut to the chase. She tried flattery. “I don’t know how you pulled it off, with Mac being so sick. How did you manage to find someone to take a sick little girl?”
He tilted his head to the side, the cocky pose. “I hit gold at the Saturday market. One of the vendors there wanted to adopt her.”
“The Saturday market?” Lauren checked to see if he was lying, but his eyes were clear, his hands steady. “So you sold Mac . . . at the Saturday market in Portland?”
“Well, it’s not like I set up a booth or anything.” He grinned, his lips thin as worms. “But yeah. Some lady there was interested. But she didn’t come to me about it. Wanted to keep it anonymous, so if anything ever happened, no one would be able to trace Mac back to her.”
“So you don’t know her name?”
“Nope.”
She sensed that he was telling the truth, and that would be terrible. This wasn’t going to get her to Mac. “How did you turn Mac over to her?”
“We used a third party. She paid one of the other vendors to broker the deal. That way, I couldn’t come after
the family if I changed my mind or wanted more money. And she didn’t want you finding out about it and coming after her. Though I guess that’s what you’re doing now. Only I don’t have her info.” He pressed two fingers to his temple. “Pretty smart, wasn’t she?”
Images of the Portland Saturday Market flashed through her mind. The bright banners, the booths of blades and jewelry and drug paraphernalia and colorful blankets. Who were the vendors that Kevin used to talk with there—the eclectic handful of people whom Kevin considered to be his friends? She didn’t really remember. She’d been too busy trying to make money with the portraits to pay attention to Kevin gallivanting around the market with Mac on his hip.
“As far as I know, Mac’s long gone. Living like a princess in some rich lady’s castle, far away from here.”
No, you’re so wrong about that. Mac is right here in Oregon. Right in Mirror Lake. She’s close . . . so close.
“Snap out of it, Sis. Can’t you stay focused for two minutes? You always were a lazy, daydreaming fool.”
“Who was the vendor—the one who made the deal?”
The direct question, so on track, took him by surprise. “Some guy. Not really my friend, you know, but he said he could make things happen fast, and he did.”
“What was his name?”
“Ya think I remember?”
She nodded.
“It was the blanket man, the guy with the freak holes popped through his ears. Juicy something. Jewzer. I don’t know. It’s not like I’d ever use him again when I can get a lot more money going through other channels. I let him make the deal because I was in a bind. Mac was sick and all, coughing and crying, and I knew if I brought her back to you it’d be hard to get her away again.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess I’m not as cold as you thought. I was sort of attached to that kid, too.”
Lauren wanted to laugh in his face. He’d been attached? The man who sold a sick child through a flea market? For the first time she glanced toward the mirror, thinking it was time to go. She sensed that this was all the information she could pry from Kevin. Was it enough?
“I need to go,” she said.
“Hold on there, Sis. Fair’s fair. I told you what I know about Mac. It’s your turn now. You need to tell the police the real truth about what happened with us.” He leaned forward, whispering, “Tell them about us.”
His vacant, icy eyes and pointy beard reminded her of the devil. Satan. Evil itself.
“I’ve told them everything.”
“Not the true version. How you ran away from home and begged me to save you. You came along for the ride. You pursued me. I was the victim, Sis. A good guy trying to help a wayward girl like yourself.”
She turned away, but his words crawled up her shoulders.
“You could have left. You could have climbed that fence and walked straight home any time. But you didn’t, and I’ll tell you why. You stayed because you wanted to. You wanted to be with me. You realized how nice it is having someone else take care of you. Someone to do all the work and figure out money and all. You had it good with me, Sis. Damned good. And that’s what you’re going to go out there and tell those guards. Tell the prosecutor and all those other dry balls cops who think they know it all. Tell them you wanted it.” He lowered his voice. “Tell them you were a cute little whore, and I had no idea you were under age.”
The venom in his voice scared her, but she couldn’t fall down now. She had come too far to let him reduce her to the wounded sparrow who cowered under his barbed wing.
“I won,” she whispered.
He squinted. “What?”
“I won.” She spoke and her voice was there, firm and smooth. “I just want you to know that. You tried to break me. You hurt me. You violated me. But in the end . . .” She shrugged. “I won. I’m healing. I’m still a whole person, and life is good. It’s very good, without you.”
“You bitch . . .”
She rose and went to the door. She walked without a limp, her soul as light as a cloud. Watching her, no one would guess at the cruelty and abuse that she had overcome. It was a healing moment for Lauren, knowing that this man hadn’t snuffed out the beautiful light inside her.
“Good luck out there, Sis,” he snarled. “Good luck living in the real world, because you’ll never get anything right. You’re never going to be happy without me, and you know it.”
As the guard opened the door for her, she turned back, wanting the final word.
Facing his sour slash of a mouth and crazy eyes, she changed her mind. He could have the last word; she was sure he’d have plenty of rotten words about her, for the rest of his life. Why argue and waste her breath?
Instead she flashed him a little smile and tinkled her fingers in a wave, just the way she’d taught Mac when she was a baby.
The bye-bye wave.
Chapter 53
On the drive back home from the state penitentiary in Salem, Rachel argued with Hank on the phone. She told him that she knew Ben Juza, the vendor who’d brokered Mac’s adoption, and she was going directly into Portland to find him.
“You can’t do this alone. This guy is no saint.”
“He talked to me and he gave me his card,” Rachel said, though she wasn’t sure why the man had opened up to her, even a little.
“And Juza has a reputation for dissing the police. He’s not going to talk to you. You may not even find him there anymore. Rachel, do yourself a favor and stay away from the market. Let the police handle it.”
“I can’t. I can’t sit around another minute if there’s a guy downtown who can tell me where to find my granddaughter.”
From the backseat, Lauren leaned forward and patted the console between the seats. “You tell him, Mom.”
“All right, let’s compromise,” Hank said. He would swing by to pick up Rachel, and together they would head downtown and try to locate this Ben Juza.
By the time Hank Todd and Pete Wolinsky picked Rachel up, Hank had heard back from the admin office of the downtown market association, who confirmed that Juza was not only still a vendor; the man had upped his profile by taking one of the more permanent booths in Waterfront Park, closer to the river. That Saturday, the smell of chicken skewers was mixed with sandalwood incense as they moved through Waterfront Park. Just me and four cops, Rachel thought. Watching Lauren’s difficult meeting with Hawkins had exhausted her, but now, on the verge of finding Mac, a new sense of exhilaration carried her along. She pictured the little girl in Lauren’s arms and prayed that it would become a reality.
There was no sign, but colorful woven blankets hung from ropes made up walls that defined Ben Juza’s stand. As rehearsed, Rachel approached the booth first.
Ben Juza was talking to another customer, telling her how his merchandise was superior to another vendor’s across the market and his prices were lower. His dogged chatter bordered on badgering, but the woman argued right back. Watching them, Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off those large plates that exposed huge holes in the center of his earlobes. Ouch. It reminded her of National Geographic photos of some long-lost tribe.
When he finished with the woman, he shot her a look. “Let me know if I can help you find something.”
“Actually . . . ,” she pushed away a woven jacket hanging on a rod and cut to the chase, “I’m hoping you can help me. I’m searching for my granddaughter. She would have just turned four. Mac is her name. Last time I stopped by, you said you remembered her.”
“Always came by with the dad and the sister who was the portrait artist?”
“That’s right. You do remember.”
“I’ve got a photographic memory. It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“That’s impressive. But I’ll let you in the true details. The portrait artist was actually her mother. My daughter, Lauren. And she’s desperate to find her little girl. Can you remember anything, anything at all that might point me in the right direction?”
He winced. “Wish I could help you, friend, but I
got nothing for you.”
“Really.” It was easy to let the friendly facade slip. “How about you tap into that photographic memory and come up with the name of the woman you sold my granddaughter to.”
Ben’s eyes glazed over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady.”
“The deal you brokered, back in February? Selling a three-year-old for cash.”
That had his attention. He was backing away, jittery eyes on Rachel as he pressed into the display of woven purses.
“I’m not sure if you’ll be tried as an accessory to kidnapping or human trafficking,” Rachel said. “I just know that once the police get you, you’re going to be in prison for a long time.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Mac’s grandmother, and I’ve had it with the lies.” She could feel the junior high teacher emerging, the take-no-prisoners, oh-grow-up impatience. “Tell me where she is.”
Rachel sensed a presence behind her. She turned to see that she was flanked by Hank and Officer Wolinsky. The uniformed Portland cops hung back a few feet away.
Ben Juza saw them, too. He held on to one of the purses, watching and calculating.
“Don’t even think about trying to bolt out the back,” Hank said quietly as he flashed his shield at the man. “We’ve got you covered, dude.”
Juza’s jaw hardened as he lifted his hands in surrender. “You got it all wrong, lady. I was saving your granddaughter. The way Hawkins trotted her around here, showing her off to strange men and making her kiss the pervs—he had plans for that kid. Sick plans, and we all knew it.”
“Are you saying Mac was sexually abused?” Rachel asked.
“Not yet. But we could see how he’d worked over your daughter. Like a wounded bird.” He scowled. “Mac was a good kid. I didn’t want to see it happen to her.”
“Oh, God.” Rachel pressed a hand to her heart. “You know about Lauren. Did you recognize her? You knew! Why didn’t you get a cop? Report him!”
And Then She Was Gone Page 27