A Father's Quest

by Debra Salonen

  “She’s a little girl. Only an absolute monster would hurt her,” Remy answered.

  He hoped she was right.

  “Do you think your friend who works in law enforcement could retrieve that cell-phone number?”

  “I’ll call him, but if this Brother Thom guy is determined to stay on the down low, he probably bought a disposable phone. If he was worried that Birdie told me something, he could be pulling up stakes and moving as we speak.”

  Once they were seated in his car, she said, “We need a plan. And a map. A big one.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’ll explain when we get to my house. Step on it.”

  He did as she asked and a few minutes later pulled into the driveway where the moving van had been parked that morning. A small sedan in need of washing was the only vehicle present.

  He got out and slammed the door. “Do you have any thing to drink?” he asked, following after her.

  “I might. Do you plan to get drunk?”

  “I might. Do you have any idea how bad it feels to know you’re virtually powerless to help the one person you love more than life?”

  “I might.”

  He followed her into the house through to the kitchen.

  He’d always like this room. He associated it with the smell of chicory and coffee and he took a deep breath without meaning to.

  Remy didn’t notice because she was reaching for an odd-shaped bottle from the shelf beside the refrigerator. “Cade brought this. It’s got a hint of chocolate.”

  “It’s not that kind of sickly sweet crap you made me buy you in high school, is it?”

  She laughed. “No. My taste buds have matured a little bit.” She poured two small shots then handed him the bottle.

  Kraken. He’d never heard of it. He took a sniff. “Strong. You drink it straight?”

  She grinned saucily. “Yes, but you can add water or ice if you need it.” Under her breath, she might have added the word “Wuss,” before taking a sip.

  “Ah.” She suddenly blinked. “What time is it?” She spun around to look at the digital clock on the built-in microwave above the stove. “Oh, good. It’s nearly five. Mama always said you weren’t a lush if you could hold off drinking till four-thirty—on weekdays, at least.”

  “Why four-thirty?”

  “That was the latest appointment she’d take at the beauty parlor. No evening hours at Marlene’s House of Beauty. Clients could come to the house, of course, but they knew they ran the risk of arriving after she’d poured her first cocktail.”

  Why did I always assume her life was peachy cool and normal compared to mine? Probably because she had siblings. He’d hated being an only child, and he hated it that his daughter was growing up alone, too. If Birdie came home in one piece and wasn’t completely, utterly psychologically messed up from this experience, he’d try to do something about that sad state of affairs.

  If the man who yelled at her did anything…

  He grabbed the drink and downed it in one gulp. The liquor burned his esophagus, making him choke. “Holy smokes, Remy. This is strong.”

  “I warned you. Want a refill? With water back this time?”

  “One will do, thanks.”

  She finished off hers with a ladylike chugging. He was impressed. “You’ve changed.”

  “I would hope so.”

  She put away the bottle then turned to look at him. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back. There might still be an atlas around here, unless someone took it, in which case, we’ll use the internet. You can start by thinking about the call and writing down any sounds you heard in the background.”

  “I only heard her voice.”

  She handed him a pen. “No. That’s what you were listening to, but your mind heard everything else. It’s a trick I learned from lucid dreaming and that’s what you hired me for, right? Close your eyes and think, Jonas. You can do this.”

  He sat at the round oak table, grabbed a piece of paper and clicked the pen she’d given him a couple of times. Stalling. He hadn’t heard anything. Just his daughter’s sad voice and terrified cries.

  His heart rate started to increase but he ordered himself to breathe. Slow and steady, as if he were at target practice. Focus.

  Where were you calling from, Birdie?

  Outside. His gut told him that. She’d probably found a phone sitting around after someone had walked off without it. Long enough for his smart, desperate child to take advantage.

  As his brain confirmed the location, he heard other noises, as Remy said he would. The wind, steady and strong, not gusty. And bird noises.

  What kind of bird noises? Think.

  He tried to imitate the sounds. Who-who-ee. And a screech that made him think of his and Birdie’s last trip to the zoo. In the monkey house, where long-tail birds scolded visitors and monkeys alike.

  “She’s someplace semitropical, I think,” he said, opening his eyes. He wasn’t surprised to find Remy sitting across from him even though he hadn’t heard her return. “Between the bird noises and her mention of gators, I think we can eliminate about ninety percent of the country.”

  She smiled encouragingly. “It’s a start. And that jibes with your ex-wife’s intention to provide homeschooling in Florida, right? That’s good, Jonas.”

  “But Florida’s a big state.”

  She opened a large, slightly mangled road atlas. “True, but one thing we do know for certain is your daughter hasn’t been brainwashed. She wants to leave.”

  She thumbed forward to a two-page spread showing the Panhandle on one page and the main part of the state on the other. “We also know she’s observant and brave enough to take advantage of an opportunity when she sees one. And, like I said, even under extreme pressure, she remembered your number.”

  “She memorized it when she was three.”

  She looked intrigued by that fact. “Three is young. You must have had a pretty good reason for pushing that. Do I dare ask why?”

  He didn’t answer right away.

  “If it’s too personal…”

  “I think we’re past any worry about privacy, Rem. You saw the whole soap opera of my life on screen today. I’ll tell you anything you want to know if it’ll help get Birdie home.”

  “Okay. Why did you make your three-year-old memorize your phone number?”

  “Cheryl never liked coming to Mom’s. She said it smelled funny and bothered her allergies, so, usually, Birdie and I would come together. But the Thanksgiving after Birdie’s third birthday, we agreed to celebrate here as a whole family. Long story short, Cheryl decided I didn’t love her. I’d never loved her.” Thanks to his senior class album and all the photos of him and Remy— Cheryl’s much more vivacious and beautiful clone. “She even accused me of having an affair.”

  He looked at Remy pointedly. “I wasn’t.”

  “Never would have occurred to me to ask. You’re the most faithful person I’ve ever known.”

  They both knew why. His unfaithful father, who ruined both their lives.

  “She made a bunch of wild threats, including taking her own life if she ever found out I cheated on her.” With you.

  “You believed her.”

  “I believed that she was capable of anything and self-centered enough to jump off a bridge with our daughter watching. I wanted Birdie to have the means to reach me if something happened.”

  “Very smart. And, luckily, she hasn’t needed to use the information before now, right?”

  He flipped a few pages ahead in the atlas and pointed to New Orleans.

  “My National Guard unit got called up when Katrina hit. I worked practically around the clock, seven days a week for two months. None of us could get home. Phone lines were messed up. We had crappy cell service. It was chaotic and stressful, even without having an emotionally unstable wife who convinces herself her husband is using this disaster as a way to hook up with…a woman.”

  “Why would she think that?”


  He looked at the short distance from New Orleans to Baylorville but couldn’t bring himself to admit the ugly truth.

  “Did Cheryl try to commit suicide?”

  “She took a bunch of pills. Fortunately, Birdie was spending the night with a neighbor, but she came down with the flu suddenly and started throwing up. The woman took her home and found Cheryl. She called an ambulance. The E.R. pumped her stomach. I got an emergency pass to fly home because my wife was being held on a seventy-two-hour suicide watch and my daughter was alone.”

  She walked to the sink to pour herself a glass of water. “I don’t know what to say, Jonas. I’m sorry.”

  He looked at his watch. “I better go.”

  “I was wondering how we were going to do this,” she said. “I didn’t think you had a mobile sleep lab with you, but it occurred to me that you might want to stay here and watch me sleep in case I had a dream that might be pertinent to your case.”

  He could tell she was teasing, but the thought had crossed his mind.

  “Not necessary. You’ll call me if you see her. Won’t you?”

  Remy was touched that he trusted her, but it killed her to see him so defeated, so broken.

  “I’ll try to dream tonight, Jonas. I can’t promise you anything, but maybe we’ll get lucky.” Maybe Birdie will come back and tell me if the fire pit was a clue that held some significance to where she was.

  “Call me anytime. I’m used to working on four or five hours of sleep. If we can get some idea of where she is, I’ll be out of here like a bat out of hell.”

  She believed that, too. “Will you do one thing for me?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Take me with you.”

  “No. That’s insane. If the cops decide this is a kidnapping, they won’t even want me involved in this investigation. Trust me, police don’t like civilians poking their noses in.”

  She crossed her arms and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll wander downtown and let some handsome tourist buy me a hurricane,” she said, naming the most alcoholic abomination she could think of. She’d tried one once and had been disgustingly sick so she’d never had one again. She drummed her fingers on one cheek, theatrically. “Yes, it’s true that an excess of alcohol can interfere with the brain’s usual nighttime activities such as dreaming, but…” She let the implication hang.

  “We’re arguing about going to a place you may or may not dream about.” He let out a snarky hoot. “Is it just me? Or does that strike you as nuts?”

  “Are you suggesting I’m crazy?”

  “Absolutely not. I know crazy. But you are slightly cracked.”

  She couldn’t say for certain whose scowl gave way to a smile first, but a second later they were both laughing. And a second after that, kissing.

  She wanted to blame the Kraken—or the intensity of the situation—but she wasn’t a liar. She’d been thinking about kissing him from the moment he showed up on her doorstep.

  He broke it off, first. “Damn. I promised myself I wasn’t going to do that.”

  “Me, too,” she said, touching her fingers to her lips. She’d kissed a dozen boys and men over the years but not a single one had left the sort of impression on her mouth as Jonas Galloway.

  He sighed weightily. “Jessie was right. The lust between us is like our invisible pet elephant—it takes up all this space and we waste a mountain of energy trying to ignore it.”

  “Well said. I couldn’t agree more. The damn thing went on every date I ever had, too, after we broke up. Voyeuristic beast,” she muttered under her breath. “You think three in one bed is crowded, you should try it with an invisible elephant.”

  She realized that was probably TMI—too much information—as Shiloh would have said, but if he could hold up his mistakes to the light, so could she. “As you’ve probably deduced, I’ve never been married. I was lamenting that fact this morning with Jessie. No long-term steady beau, as Mama would have said. My social life never really found its footing after you left town.” She smiled sheepishly. “Not that that’s your fault or anything. Merely a coincidence.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  His reply was halfhearted at best.

  “One day at the hospital when Mama was still doing fairly well, the Bullies and I were sitting in the waiting room, talking. One of them—I can’t recall which—declared that if it weren’t for Jessie, they’d be almost positive I was switched at birth.”

  “That’s mean.”

  “Actually, I think they meant it as a compliment.”

  They both smiled.

  “I’m going, now,” Jonas said, waiting politely for Remy to lead the way to the door. She noticed that he left plenty of room between them.

  “I’ll see you when I see you,” she said, remembering too late the phrase was one they’d used every time they parted—except the last time.

  He paused and reached out to touch his finger to her nose. “Not if I see you first.”

  He remembered.

  She stayed at the door until he had backed his car out of the driveway and driven away. Her brain was mush, her insides as mixed up as the agitation cycle on her washing machine. Her first impulse was to call someone. Jessie or one of the Bullies. But she didn’t.

  Instead, she dashed upstairs to change clothes. She had six gallons of the boldest and craziest colors of paint known to man—or woman—and she wasn’t afraid to use them. Her personal-image remodeling might be on hold, but she could still redo her home.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “TURQUOISE? I MEAN, really. Turquoise?”

  Remy laughed at the exasperation in her sister’s voice. “It’s only one wall, Jessie. Mama would have loved it.”

  “Our Mother of the White Walls, you mean? Yeah, right.”

  Remy squeezed the phone between her ear and shoulder as she finished cleaning her brush. Jessie was right, of course, and Remy had known she’d get flack from all of her sisters when she group emailed a photo of her finished product, but she didn’t care. She’d needed the distraction after spending nearly a whole day with Jonas Galloway.

  “Where are you guys? Still on the road?”

  “Nope. Shiloh found us a dog-friendly motel and we are hunkered down for the night.” She gave an amused chuckle. “The boys—Cade and Beau—are bonding. I’m looking out the window right now. It’s a hoot to watch Cade walking the dog, waiting for him to do his job. He—Cade, that is—says ranch dogs can do their business without any help from him, but of course, we’re not on the ranch. Yet.”

  “Where’s Shiloh?”

  “Playing pool in the lobby with a couple of girls her age. So far, so good. What’s happening with Jonas?”

  Remy turned off the water. “He got a call this afternoon from his daughter.” She lowered her voice. “You should have seen him, Jess. It broke my heart. He loves her so much and there isn’t a damn thing he can do at the moment. It’s horrible.”

  There was a pause, then Jessie said, “Okay. I don’t know if Jonas has a private investigator working on this or not, but Cade told me about a guy who is supposed to be really good. I can give you his number if you want it.”

  Remy walked to the table where she’d left the map and lined paper she and Jonas had used. “Sure. Why not? The worst he can tell me is no. But, at this point, I think he’d jump at any help he can get. He hired me, didn’t he?”

  “Hired you?”

  Remy winced. She hadn’t intended on sharing that bit of information. “In theory. I agreed to let him match what I would have made at Shadybrook for two weeks. Mostly to keep things more businesslike.” So she didn’t feel as though she was using his situation as a way to spend time with him. Talk about opportunistic. Was she really that low?

  Instead of commenting on Remy’s admission, Jessie rattled off a phone number. “Cade’s coming back, and, honestly, I’m trying not to look like a nosy, micromanaging sister. He likes you and all, but he wants us to focus on us.”

  Remy smiled. “Good for Cade.
Tell him I understand completely, and I’m fine. Really, I am. Jonas and I are adults. He hasn’t made a pass at me.” Surely one harmless kiss didn’t count—even if it did stir up all sorts of crazy memories on her part. “He only has one thing on his mind—finding his daughter.”

  “Yeah. That’s what Cade said. He tried to imagine someone keeping him from Shiloh. That’s why he made some calls. That number I gave you belongs to a private investigator in Tampa, Florida. Supposedly he’s the best.”

  “Thanks, Jess. Tell Cade, too. I’ll let Jonas know tomorrow.”

  “Will do. Oh, here come my boys. Call me if anything breaks. Bye.”

  Remy hung up, then stretched. Her shoulders were sore from painting. She’d draw a bath, take a nice soak, then go to bed. With any luck, she’d dream. About the little girl with red hair and a big smile. Not about the girl’s daddy.

  Unfortunately, Remy knew all too well that dreams came from a person’s subconscious. Her reaction to the one, harmless kiss made it abundantly clear that she had never completely gotten over Jonas.

  A fact she feared might interfere with her best intentions.

  BIRDIE WOKE UP BUT SHE kept her eyes closed, hoping that if she tried hard enough she could go back to the nice, safe place of her dreams. A big meadow with a pretty blue sky and white clouds. A nice lady with yellow hair had been holding her hand. The lady had pointed upward. “That cloud looks like a donkey. See his two long ears?”

  Birdie had laughed. “Or a really big bunny.”

  “Maybe. Or a stork. Those ears could be wings.”

  “Is it true that a stork brings new babies? I want a brother or a sister, but Mommy says I can’t have one because Daddy doesn’t love us anymore.”

  The lady dropped to her knees on the tall grass and put her hands on Birdie’s arms. “Oh, sweetheart, that isn’t true. Your daddy loves you very much. And storks don’t bring babies. Ask your daddy when you see him. He’ll tell you where babies come from.”

  Birdie liked this lady. She made Birdie feel safe. And she liked knowing she’d see her daddy again soon. Talking to him had been worth what happened when Brother Thom found her and dragged her out from under the picnic table. He only hit her once before her mother saw them and came rushing to Birdie’s rescue.