“We’ll never be able to thank you enough,” I added.
“Hold your applause,” he said. “I don’t have results yet. We’ll hope for the best. Meanwhile, I’ve got some questions for you.”
Kenna and I spent an hour on the phone being interviewed by George. As a budding investigator, I couldn’t help savoring his style, which was incredibly detailed. Afterward, I faxed him everything we could think of that might help, including Marcus’s address, the adoption paperwork, and Beth’s birth certificate. I also emailed April for permission to pass along her contact information. I’d call her mom the next morning.
“We should have made that call from my house,” Kenna said. “It feels creepy here. Someone could be outside spying on us. I’m scared to walk home.”
She was right. On the phone with George, I felt okay, but once we weren’t distracted, I got chills. It was as if the temperature had suddenly dropped in the house. I didn’t want to spend the night at Kenna’s again, but resting here might be impossible.
“You should stay with us,” Kenna offered.
“I’m worried about Andy,” I said. “He’s going to hate me.”
“Think about the good news we’re bringing him,” she said, although I wasn’t sure he’d see it that way. “He won’t mind.”
“Maybe I should go to a hotel,” I said.
“That’s ridiculous. Get your butt in pajamas and come over. If you’re going to spend money on anything, it’s not that.”
I went upstairs obediently, put on sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbed a hair clip for morning bed head, and brushed my teeth. Then I collected a handful of toiletries.
“Ready,” I told her when I returned downstairs and dropped everything in a plastic bag. “Wait.” I picked up my cell phone from the counter. “Before we leave, I have to email Dean and tell him about George. And there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“We should thank God. I think George was heaven sent.”
“That’s so true,” she agreed.
I’d never prayed with Kenna, quietly or aloud, but we’d asked for help, and God’s answer was better than anything we could have imagined. I took a deep breath.
“Thank you, God, for George,” I said simply.
“And for Dean,” Kenna added, raising an eyebrow. “I mean it!”
Twenty-Four
After waking up at Kenna’s feeling refreshed, I called Mom first thing. I was dying to say good morning to the kids, find out how (and where) everyone slept, and tell them I loved them. Now that George’s team could cover West Virginia, I felt obligated to help with a dreaded family commitment—attending a Pizza Arcade birthday party for Sophie’s friend Megan.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and made the next call to April’s house. She and her mom agreed to talk with George, so I touched base with him, too. Everything was a go.
I set my phone on the end table, stood up, and made the bed. The door was closed, so I listened for signs of life outside. None. I opened it a little, and seeing no one, hustled to the guest bathroom with my toiletry bag. When I came out and listened again, Kenna and Andy were talking in the kitchen. I couldn’t help hearing their conversation as I moved down the hall, still in my overnight sweats and T-shirt.
“This guy George better be careful he doesn’t screw things up,” Andy was saying. “You can’t imagine life without Beth, but I can’t take starting this whole process again. You almost ruined everything last night, and now this?” He made a dismissive noise.
I wasn’t sure whether to announce my presence or do a one-eighty and tiptoe away.
“Hi guys,” I called out. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Kenna’s back was straight and tense, and her arms were folded across her chest. She was wearing her usual exercise clothes—black lycra shorts and a body-hugging shirt. Andy wore dress pants and a pink button down, and he was holding a bowl of something. They both turned to me in surprise.
“Morning, Nicki,” Andy mumbled.
“Hi, Nicki,” Kenna said. “I’m sure you heard what we were discussing.”
“A little,” I admitted. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Stupid question. In Andy’s eyes, I’d done enough. Or too much.
“Maybe you could reassure Andy that George is incredible,” Kenna said.
“You just met him last night,” Andy said, rolling his eyes. “No offense. How do you even know he is who he says he is?”
“Dean, my PI instructor, knows him,” I explained self-consciously. “I’m sure George is for real.”
Andy considered this for a moment. He looked at Kenna. “Did you explain that we want him to be extra discreet so First Steps doesn’t think we’re nuts?”
Kenna was quiet. “No. I didn’t think of that.”
“We can call him right now,” I jumped in. “I just talked with him.”
I turned back down the hall to retrieve my cell phone. When I returned, Kenna was pouring orange juice, and Andy was eating. No words or eye contact.
“Want some OJ?” Kenna asked me with a forced smile.
I accepted and handed her my cell phone. “There’s George’s contact info. I’ll let you guys copy it down and give him a ring. I’m going home to freshen up. Okay if I go out the back?”
“Of course,” Kenna said. I took a few sips while she noted George’s number and unlocked the patio door. “I’ll watch you walk.” She handed over my phone.
“More like run,” I said. “You guys, thanks so much for letting me stay again.” I looked back and forth between them.
“Anytime, Nicki. Thanks for everything,” Andy said. I didn’t detect sarcasm, but I couldn’t be sure. “Hey, speaking of running, how’s the treadmill?”
Ugh. He had to know the answer. “Lonely,” I confessed. “But that’s going to change.”
“Good,” said Kenna. “Call me. I’ll be home for an hour.”
“Will do. Bye guys.”
I hoped she wouldn’t be crying when we talked again.
Since I was technically running from a gang, jogging on the treadmill seemed like a good, totally unappealing idea. Maybe pounding on the equipment would take the fear out of being home alone. With that kind of racket, I wouldn’t notice every strange noise the house made.
I attached the magnetized end of the safety strap to the treadmill and the clip to my sweatpants. With my cell phone in the drink holder, I started walking and progressed to running five minutes later. After two minutes of that, about to collapse, I walked again. I continued the two-on, two-off pattern for thirty minutes and went two miles total. Weak. At least it was a start.
It was time to think birthday party. Since I’d be seeing lots of other parents, I put extra effort into visualizing an outfit while showering. I finally settled on jeans and a black T-shirt, just in case pizza, soda, or worse headed for me. Mini gold hoop earrings would dress things up and make me feel presentable.
On the way out I had a last-minute thought. I’d bring a baby monitor with me and turn one on inside. Then, when I came home, I could listen for suspicious noises before coming in. I dashed upstairs, turned on the hall monitor, and grabbed the base from my office.
As soon as I got in the van, my dark outfit absorbed the sun’s heat. I blasted the AC and hoped it would work quickly.
Seeing no one around, I pulled out as fast as I dared, always on the lookout not just for gang members, but also neighborhood kids. At the same time, I kept an eye on the rearview mirror. The minute I let my guard down, I feared, someone would strike, and unlike last time, maybe they’d succeed. A terrible thought occurred to me. What if someone tried to shoot me, but hit an innocent bystander instead? This was all too much. And there was no way out. Maybe the kids and I should go stay with Aunt Liz for a while.
/> The AC was pumping, but my wandering mind made me sweat. I actually wanted to be in the safety of a germ-infested, infantile crowd. I shook my head at the irony of parents telling kids to ditch their intuition and cozy up to giant mascots. “Come on. He’s just an overgrown animal. He’s nice!” Same with Santa. “Stop crying! Sit on the fat guy’s lap, tug his weird facial hair and tell him your hopes and dreams. Sure, you’ve never met him and he’s dressed like a maniac, but he’s going to give you presents and candy, so it’s okay!”
The parking lot was jammed for a Tuesday morning, I thought, but maybe it was birthday party prime time. I searched for Mom’s car and anyone remotely suspicious—especially a young male without kids. Unfortunately, the “restaurant” was next to a convenience store, which attracted all types.
I spotted Mom’s car but had to park in the next row, further away than I liked. I couldn’t wait to get inside and hug the kids. I stuck some extra wipes in my purse, locked the car, and dashed to the entrance, where my hand was stamped with the appropriate symbol to match Megan’s party. Her parents had been kind enough to invite Jack too. My stamp wouldn’t match Jack and Sophie’s by number, I realized, but Mom’s would.
I pushed through the turnstile into a madhouse of screaming kids, blaring games, and lines of people waiting for tokens and food. The place was rockin’. I spent a few minutes observing, but Jack, Sophie and Mom weren’t anywhere in sight.
Sauntering through the main entrance behind me were two teenage boys with sideways caps and sleeveless shirts. I didn’t like their looks, but maybe they were just here to hang out, as humiliating as that should be for self-respecting high schoolers.
I looked around and saw plenty of other teens, boys and girls, tossing basketballs into hoops, rolling skeet balls into holes, and carrying strings of prize tickets. Maybe I was overreacting. Plus, they could have younger siblings here.
What I didn’t see were people I knew. After watching the guys behind me check in and head for the hoops, I moved to the back room where party tables were set up. I found Megan with some buddies, wished her a happy birthday, and hoped Mom remembered to bring our present.
“Have you seen Jack and Sophie?” I asked. “I think they’re here somewhere.”
“I don’t know where they went.” Megan was adorable in pigtails, a red plaid shirt and white shorts. A little country girl.
“Do you think they’re playing games?”
“Uh huh.”
“Okay. Thanks, sweetie. Have fun!”
I wandered through the games with no luck, finally deciding to check the bathroom, where I found them washing hands.
“Hi, honey,” Mom said when she saw me.
“Mom?” Sophie said. “Why are you here?” She stomped a foot.
“Sophie!” Jack scolded, giving me a hug.
“Sorry,” Sophie grumbled. “But Grandma’s taking care of us. And she does a good job.”
I knew why she was upset. With Grandma, the kids got more freedom. I appreciated, but didn’t rely on, the hand-stamp security system, and chose to follow the kids around instead. That meant they had to stick together, which they despised.
Jack wanted to play racing games, and Sophie always wanted to ride the three-seat merry-go-round. I wished I could enjoy letting my kids roam, but I wasn’t ready. Not yet. It was one of the countless times I missed having a partner.
“Grandma does a great job,” I agreed. “And since she’s with us, you guys can separate. We’ll each take one of you.”
“I get Grandma!” Sophie yelled, her voice echoing painfully off the bathroom walls.
“No fair,” Jack said. Then he looked at me. “Sorry, Mom.”
“It’s okay.” I glanced at Mom, who was trying not to grin. She couldn’t help basking in her popularity.
“Come on, Sophie,” she encouraged. “Let’s go play. Then we’ll wash hands again before pizza.” She took a cup of tokens from the counter and met eyes with Jack. “Have fun, honey. After lunch, we’ll switch, and you can come with me.”
“Okay. Come on, Mom.” Jack picked up his tokens and led the way to a pair of life-size jet skis in front of a video beach scene. “Wanna race?” he asked.
“Let’s do it.”
Every time I saw Sophie, she was with a friend, and Grandma was chasing after her. I kept an eye on Jack and everyone else, still wary of the teens who had walked in behind me. They kept looking at me, I thought, but maybe because I kept looking at them.
After pizza, cake, soda, and mascot singing, it was back to the games, this time with Sophie.
“I wanna climb,” she said, pointing at a network of slides and ceiling-high netting. This was my least favorite area because I couldn’t follow my kids or tell where they’d end up. It was probably their favorite for the same reason.
“Go ahead,” I told Sophie, who was already shoving her shoes into a cubby. “If you come out and can’t find me, meet me at this shoe rack.” I pointed to it. “Remember, it’s blue.”
“Okay. Blue.” She scampered up a slide the wrong way, immediately breaking the rules and putting herself at risk.
“Sophie,” I warned, knowing she wouldn’t turn back. “Don’t go that way again.”
“Okay!” I heard from somewhere above me. I watched her crawl through a cylinder made of thick, black rope. Then she entered a yellow plastic tube that forked at the end. From there I lost track.
I looked around at other parents nearby. They all seemed relaxed. Okay, that’s an exaggeration. They looked frazzled and exasperated—like normal parents—but comfortable with the climbing area. Meanwhile, their kids were just as ornery, if not more, than Sophie. Everything with Beth is making you tense, I told myself. Take a few breaths. Chill.
Before I could exhale peacefully, a teen who’d followed me in climbed into the suspended tube structure, which was not meant to support, accommodate, or entertain someone his size, not to mention anyone with shoes.
That’s not right, I thought as he scrambled up two netted levels with ease. No one else seemed to notice. I caught one mom’s eye who was tying her kid’s shoes. “Some older boy just went up there,” I said with a sigh. “And he’s wearing shoes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Kids,” she said. “Good luck. I’m outta here.”
“On your way out, would you mind telling someone who works here?” I asked. “I just feel bad for the little ones up there. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Truth was I didn’t trust him, which is what I should have said, especially since she wasn’t appalled by his behavior.
“Umm, sure,” she said. “Come on, Taylor.” She walked off with her toddler.
“Excuse me!” I called to the teenager, who was crawling close to Sophie’s likely vicinity. “You’re too old to be up there. You need to come down right now.” I used my firm Mommy voice, which tended to work with everyone’s kids but my own. He ignored me and disappeared into a tube.
“Hey!” said a faint voice that sounded like Sophie if she were in a plastic bubble, which she probably was.
“Sophie?” I called.
“No!” she said.
“Sophie?” I said again more loudly. No one looked concerned. I squinted at a red plastic bubble at the end of a tube. It had a little window from which kids could peer. Instead of seeing Sophie peek out, though, I saw the teen, who nodded at me without smiling. Oh my goodness.
“You’re ugly!” I heard Sophie yell with confidence. “And you’re wearing shoes!” Then she said something I’ll never forget. “Stop!”
I was so upset I almost launched off the floor like a Sophie-seeking missile.
“Sophie!” I yelled. “Get away from that boy! And you get away from her RIGHT NOW!”
Everyone around me froze. He’s not going to do anything terrible up there, is he? I asked myself. Wit
h me right here? “We have to get that boy out of there,” I said while diving into the slide. “He’s bothering my daughter!”
It was a tight squeeze, but I made it up, pushing hard with my sandals’ tread and hooking my fingertips into the slides’ grooves, calling Sophie all the way. Just let me get to her before anything happens, I begged. Please!
By the time I reached her, she was alone, and we were in the plastic bubble together. I looked out the cloudy, scratched window at all the faces pointed our way.
“What happened?!” I asked. She wasn’t crying, and she looked okay.
“He said he was gonna get me!” she said. “I don’t want to play that game!”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.” She shook her head. I didn’t know how to make the sign of the cross, or even what it meant, but my instinct was to do it. My thankfulness was beyond words.
I pulled her into my lap for a cuddle. Tears were in both our eyes. “I’m so sorry, honey. He’s gone now.” I wanted to tell someone to get him, but I wasn’t leaving Sophie. Hopefully security cameras somewhere had captured the boys’ images. Yet it wasn’t like I could report a crime. Hello, 911? Someone tried to play tag with my daughter at Pizza Arcade! With high-tops on!
“Did he say anything else?” I asked her.
“No. But I called him ugly. His teeth were gold and scary and gross! And he tried to grab me. But I kicked him. Hah!”
“Then what happened?”
“He went away.”
“Good for you. Well, you’re safe now. Let’s get out of this thing.” I was starting to think—and worry—about Jack’s whereabouts.
“I don’t want to leave,” she said.
Maybe she was afraid. “You don’t want to leave the tube...or the party?”
Finding Sky (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 1) Page 26