by Tracy Sharp
It was beyond strange that he’d use Adrian’s adoption office.
“Who was the woman?”
“I don’t know, but she didn’t look all that, um, shall we say, classy.”
“He’s slumming it. That might be why he takes them there. He doesn’t want to get caught in his car and he doesn’t want to take them to a no-tell when all he wants is a quickie. What a gem.”
Jack shrugged. “I’m just glad we got you the hell out of there.”
“Why hasn’t he called the cops? Why didn’t he follow us?”
“Because he probably shouldn’t be there himself, remember?” Jack said.
“I’m getting a headache.” A steady pounding had started behind my eyes. I’d been getting wicked headaches over the past year or so. Sometimes they lasted for days.
“Let’s get a hotel room. We’ll go visit Ms. Mandell in the morning,” Jack said. He was taking care of me again, and I didn’t mind it.
* * *
When we got to the hotel, Jack used a phony name and paid cash. He always did, not wanting any of the crazies who were onto us track us down. We always got a room with two beds. Jack and I have known each other forever, and we cherished our friendship. We had something far more special than either of us had ever had in any romantic relationship, and neither of us wanted to mess with it, because we both knew that neither of us would ever find it again with anyone else. And if we ever did take it there, it would be the beginning of the end for us.
Sexual relationships end. We’d never be the same. Neither of us was willing to risk it.
That didn’t mean that I didn’t find Jackson Quick sexually attractive. I just never allowed myself to entertain sexual thoughts about him. He was sexy as hell. I was hard pressed to think of a woman who wasn’t gay, who didn’t at least look him up and down. He was big and built like a rock, with everything in all the right places, and he had a boyish, mischievous grin that had gotten him into more beds than I’d care to even attempt to guess at.
Our relationships never worked out. But we’re loyal as hell to each other. There is no bullshit between us. Why couldn’t we achieve that with anyone else? It was strange.
I fell into a fitful sleep, too tired to sleep all that well. Jack was having the same problem. I heard him tossing and turning in the other bed.
After a while I got up and sat on the window sill, looking out at the city below us. It was beautiful. So many lights. I wondered if I’d ever be able to settle down and be the person that Callahan had wanted me to be. I’d tried. It just wasn’t in me. Not then. Maybe not ever.
“Can’t sleep, Kicks?” Jack’s whiskey voice was low, like a lover’s.
I looked back at him. He was leaning on one arm, watching me. “No. Too jacked up. No pun intended.”
He chuckled.
I smiled. “Too frazzled.”
“Come on over here,” he said, moving back on the bed, making room for me.
I went over and climbed into his bed, and he covered me up. I lay on my side and moved back, allowing him to place an arm under my neck and one across my waist. He’d wrapped himself around me, and I didn’t feel smothered.
“It’s all going to be okay, Kicks.” His whisper was close to my ear. I felt my hair move just the slightest bit. “It will. It always is.”
I inhaled and let out a long breath. “Do you really think so? Even this time?”
“When has it not been? It hasn’t always ended up like we hope it will, but we always end up okay in the end.”
“Yeah, but it takes something from us each time, Jack. Doesn’t it?”
“This is a dirty business, Kicks. But we learn from each time, and we get better, so that when we live to fight another day, we really kick ass. Nobody can do it like us, Kicks. And that’s why we keep doing the jobs that nobody else will do. We’re made for it. What else would we do? Huh?”
I smiled in the dark. He was right, of course. “Yeah. I know. I guess we’re stuck with each other.”
“Guess so.”
“Promise?” I asked him, my voice sounding further away in my own ears.
“Promise.”
And I believed him.
We lay silently spooning, and sometime not too long from then, we both finally fell asleep.
Chapter Twelve
We got up early the next morning, and I spread the files out on the bed. There were four of them. We read through them, Jack taking two and me taking two. The files were from eleven years ago. The chances of these women being at the same address and having the same last names and phone numbers were slim, but we gave it a try anyway. We started calling.
Of the four women, only one still lived at the same place and still had the same last name. She was Taryn Murphy. Twenty-nine years old.
I dialed her number. When she answered I briefly explained to her who we were and that we needed to ask her a few questions about her experience with the Friends of the Family adoption agency.
There was a long pause on the phone.
I waited a beat, then continued. “Taryn, I know this can’t be easy for you, and that the last thing you want to do is dredge up a painful past, but we really need to speak with you. The lives of babies are at stake.”
I could hear her breathing, but she said nothing. “Please,” I said.
“Okay.” Her tone sounded defeated. Flat.
We arranged to come by her house in an hour. The excitement of finding a woman who had been involved with Adrian’s shady agency made my nerves crackle. She just might be the key to bringing Adrian down. She may remember the names of other young women who had had the misfortune of coming into contact with Adrian.
“You know, I can’t believe that Adrian didn’t have those files destroyed,” Jack said, climbing into the truck. “That’s really stupid.”
“Maybe she has to keep files for a long time in case anyone comes snooping. Snooping by legitimate means, that is.” I sat back, leaning my head against the head rest and yawned.
“You mean, not like you, climbing through a window and shooting the lock off a desk drawer?” Jack grinned at the road ahead of us.
“Right.”
“Guess she didn’t count on anyone like us coming around.” He turned the heat up in the truck.
“They never do, Jack.” I slid down a little in the seat, basking in the warmth from the hot air blowing toward me. “They never do.”
* * *
Taryn lived in a nice neighborhood. Nice, tree lined street. Houses decked out in Christmas lights. She lived in a Greek revival, looked to be built in about the eighteen-sixties. Red bows adorned the windows, and red and white twinkling Christmas lights were wound around the columns.
She opened the door in a red turtleneck and jeans. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders, bangs cut neatly just above her eyebrows. She looked like she belonged in an ivory soap commercial. Pretty girl next door.
Her smile was cautious as she invited us in.
“Thanks for seeing us on such short notice,” I said. “I’m sure there are many things you’d prefer to be doing than meeting with us.”
The house smelled like nutmeg and cinnamon. Either she had fragrant holiday candles burning or she’d been baking. My stomach growled.
“Just baking for the kids,” she said. “I teach fourth grade. I bake for them every year.” She showed us to her living room. “Please, sit down.”
Jack and I sat on the couch. Cream colored and plush. I wanted to curl up on it and take a nap. I was so tired. A plate of cookies lay on the coffee table in front of us.
She saw me eyeing the plate and smiled. “Help yourself, please.”
She didn’t have to ask us twice. Jack and I both took a cookie.
I nibbled on the cookie, then closed my eyes. “Wow. These are heavenly.”
“Thanks. It’s my own recipe, honed over many years of baking as a single woman.”
A black cat slinked into the room and snaked around Jack’s legs. Jack isn’t a huge f
an of cats. He will put up with them, but he doesn’t really like them.
“Portia. Behave.”
The cat moved away from Jack and toward Taryn.
“Well behaved cat,” Jack said.
Taryn stroked the cat’s silky fur. “She’s a good girl.”
Jack and I both smiled and waited a beat. It wasn’t going to be easy for Taryn to go back eleven years to when she gave up her baby.
She looked up at us, and sat back, her hands laced together on her lap. “You mentioned the Friends of the Family.”
I leaned forward. “Yes. Please understand, Taryn. Our intention here is not to dig up the past or open up old wounds. But these are really bad people. And they need to be stopped.”
She nodded once. “Yes, they are.”
Jack said, “We’d appreciate anything you could tell us. Anything you could share about your experiences with Adrian Mandell.”
Taryn’s face seemed to harden at the very mention of the name. “She’s a horrible person.”
“We’ve figure out that much. And nobody’s put a stop to her so far.” I kept my voice soft and even. “Tell us what happened to you, Taryn. What happened to your baby?”
She looked down at her jeans and smoothed a small crease. “I was eighteen years old. Pregnant. Scared and pretty much banished from my family until I agreed to give the baby up.” She looked up at us, her large eyes watering. “I come from a good family. They were all about appearances. I’d embarrassed them beyond words. Somebody mentioned Adrian Mandell to my father. We met with her, and the same day I was driven out of state, all the way to Phoenix, Arizona.” She paused, remembering. Her eyes looked far away.
“That’s pretty harsh,” Jack said.
“I’d done the unforgivable. I’d humiliated my family. Sending me away was in large part a punishment as well as hiding me until I’d given birth.” Her fingers moved nervously over each other in her lap. “I had no access to a telephone and I wasn’t permitted to write to anyone. I was kept on the grounds of that house.
“When I began having doubts, considering keeping my baby, they told me that if I did that I’d be reneging on a contract my parents had with Adrian. They said that they would be sued for breach of contract and also responsible for the cost of housing, feeding, clothing me, as well as all my medical bills, which they were so kindly taking care of.”
“They took care of all your medical bills?” Jack asked.
“Yes. They took care of everything. As long as I promised to hand over my baby after he was born.” She brushed a tear away and sighed. Even after all these years, the wound was raw and barely closed. “They lied to me. They said it would be an open adoption. That the adoptive parents would send me pictures of him and that we’d meet a few times a year so that I could see how he was doing.” She gave a humorless little laugh. “That never happened.”
“Taryn, do you remember the names of any of the other girls who were staying in that house with you?” Jack asked her.
Taryn nodded her head. “I remember the names of all of them.”
* * *
It was like winning the jackpot. She told us the names of six other girls who were pregnant and waiting to give birth in that house. The girls were treated as incubators, there only until the babies were born. Talking privately was discouraged, but there were times when the girls found themselves with another one or two of the others and shared information about themselves to gain some kind of intimacy. The isolation ate away at them.
Luckily, Taryn had privately exchanged names and phone number with three of the other girls.
None of the girls had contacted her after they left the house, and she hadn’t attempted to contact any of them.
“For me, the pain was too great.” She took a shaky breath to compose herself. “I just wanted to move on and put it behind me. I’m sure it was the same for them.”
“Of course,” I said. Looking at Taryn’s face, it didn’t seem that the pain had lessened any for her over the past eleven years. How could it?
Taryn was silent for a moment, her brows furrowing a little. She reached over to a small, pink address book which sat on the side table next to her. “I’m sorry, but I still struggle with this. I don’t have it in me to contact these women. I need to leave that to you.” She handed me the address book.
“You kept this all these years.” I opened the little book and slowly rifled through the pages, marveling at how neat her teenage handwriting was. Mine had always been a chicken scrawl.
“Yes. On the bottom of a memory trunk my father had made for my sixteenth birthday. I haven’t opened it since I placed it in there. I don’t think I even looked at those phone numbers. They were the first and last entries I made in that address book.”
Jack nodded silently. He reached for another cookie. He was all but fidgeting, not knowing what to say.
I stood up and offered her my hand. “Taryn, thank you. We have their maiden names here. Even if they’ve married or changed their names for some reason, we have something to go on.”
She stood, offered her hand to me and then to Jack. “Thank you.” But I didn’t think she meant it.
She wasn’t happy that we’d dug up these old bones, and was treating our meddling as something she was resigned to. Something she’d always known would come to haunt her. But there was a little relief in her eyes as well. We’d finally showed up on her doorstep, and it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.
Perhaps she was expecting the boy she’d given up instead of us. How would she explain things to him?
“Would you like us to let you know what we find out?” Jack asked her as we stood in the open doorway, the winter chill cooling the warm room.
She gave a little shake of her head. Then she crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”
* * *
We decided to go back home until we had more on Adrian. We were both tired, and not much into talking. Jack found a classic rock station which came in clearly, and I leaned back in the seat and let my mind drift as I watched the indigo landscape. The snow had tapered off to a light dusting, but still shimmered in the glow of the headlights.
After a long while Jack’s husky voice broke the silence. “You okay, Kicks?”
I didn’t answer for a minute. There was no rush for one. Silence was always easy with us. “I will be. Just a bit shaky.”
“Because of the case? Or because Callahan left you?”
I stiffened. Looked at him. His words felt like a slap. “What the hell, Jack?”
“Leah, you never talk about what’s eating you. This shit’s going to come back and bite you on the ass. Talk to me.”
“Talking doesn’t make the situation any better.”
“What will? Distracting yourself with Lucas?” He glanced at me, his eyes serious.
“Maybe.” I lifted my chin.
“Really. And how long does that balm last? About as long as it takes for the afterglow to wear off, right?”
I glared at him. “What the hell do you know about it?”
He chuckled. “I know more than you think. Been down that road myself, more than a time or two.”
“No you haven’t. You’ve always been pretty together. You always have control.”
“I didn’t always, Kicks. I used to hit the bottle pretty heavily as a kid. You know that.”
“How is that the same?”
“You don’t think it’s the same?” He shook his head slowly. “You’re in more trouble than I thought.”
I fumed beside him, because I knew he was right. But I wasn’t willing to accept that. Because if I did, that would mean I’d have to accept that I had a tad bit of a problem, and that would be the first step in trying to fix that problem. And I really didn’t want to fix it. It was the only way I knew how to calm the chaos in my brain.
I needed that problem. I needed it so badly that my hands were shaking at my sides, and I balled my fists in my gloves to try to stop the trembling.
&nb
sp; Jack looked at me. Reached over and placed one huge hand on top of my gloved fist.
“I love you, Leah. You know? You’re the only family I’ve got.”
I bit my bottom lip and swallowed back the lump that was rising in my throat. My eyes misted and I looked back at him and tried to keep my voice even. I almost succeeded. “Right back at you, my friend.”
His hand squeezed mine. “Don’t slip too far into that abyss, Leah. Okay? Call up to me. I’ll throw you a line.”
I nodded.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He patted my hand and turned up the radio, and we both sang along to CCR’s Bad Moon Rising, and I thanked whoever was responsible for sending me Jack all those years ago, when I’d been sinking so low that I hadn’t even cared to get back up again.
* * *
Shoot somebody or have sex. I was lying in my bathtub full of bubbles, one arm thrown over my eyes as I slowly breathed in the steam. Since I didn’t have anyone to shoot at the moment, the alternative was sex.
But this was the abyss that Jack had been talking about. I craved the sweet, merciful oblivion that only sexual euphoria could sweep me into.
So what?
So it was a problem.
Again, so what?
I sighed and moved my arm so that it sank into the hot water. I sank a little lower into the bubbles and stared at the tile wall ahead of me. I heard the clicking of Pango’s toenails on the hardwood floor outside of the bathroom and smiled at her as she pushed the door open and walked through. “Hey, pretty girl.”
I pushed the faucet with my big toe and let hot water dribble into the tub. Now that the door was open, I’d lose the warmth in the bathroom quick, and the water would cool off.
What I needed was to settle in with my dog, cuddle up on the couch with some popcorn, and watch TV.
But I was pissed off at everything. The people who treated pregnant women as incubators and infants as commodities, and pissed at Callahan for leaving, even though he’d stayed longer than he should have with the likes of me. Someone, who had never deserved him. He deserved better.