by Cate Beauman
Chapter Eleven
Neve Porter finished filling her gas tank and sat back behind the wheel, more than ready to get out of here. It was dark and cold, and her GPS had been on the fritz, leading her all over Spokane. Somehow she’d ended up in Bakersfield, thirty-five minutes north of the city.
If she followed 395 South, she would end up back where she started, according to the woman who ran her credit card, but Neve fiddled with the GPS anyway just in case the ornery little device decided it wanted to play nice on her way back to the hotel. As soon as she made it to her room, she was calling down to the front desk and requesting they get her a new one. She didn’t have time for all of this nonsense. Her entire trip west had been a disaster—one mishap after another. Two more days and she could head home to Boston.
She glanced at the hotel’s address she’d written down and started manually typing it in, no longer trusting the computer. “Now let’s see if you can behave for the next little while,” she scolded. Her finger paused against the screen when the petite woman bundled up in a jacket and hat at the pumps caught her eye. The paper in Neve’s hand fell to the floor when the woman faced forward. “Alyson,” she said on a trembling whisper. “Ally.”
The woman had Ally’s eyes—Neve’s eyes—and the same black hair. She stared at the deep dip in the woman’s top lip, the one she’d played her finger over when her baby slept in her arms so long ago.
“Ally,” she said again louder over the pounding of her heart, still trying to believe that her daughter was standing right there. Detective Domonico called her just yesterday to tell her remains had been discovered in western Mass that could potentially be Alyson’s. DNA testing would be completed within six weeks, and again she would wait to see if her sweet child had finally been found. But as she stared at the woman talking and waving to a man at the gas pump, Neve knew the bones the authorities had found would be closure for some other poor family, because her little girl, her Ally, was right there.
She watched Ally get in her car, wave again, and drive off. “What are you doing?” Shaking away the fog of shock, Neve started her rented Lexus and pulled out, slamming on her brakes when the car to her left accelerated forward at the same time. Gunning the engine, she took a right, trying to catch up to the blue Prius moving with the steady flow of six o’clock traffic. She wasn’t about to lose her child a second time.
The van in front of her stopped, leaving her little choice but to do the same, and suddenly the Prius was gone. “Where did you go?” she mumbled with a sharp pang of panic, scanning her surroundings. “There!” She swerved over a lane to the honk of the vehicle behind her and turned left into the Food and Stuff parking lot. Finding the nearest parking spot, she got out, not bothering to button her jacket as she ran into the grocery store she was certain she’d seen Alyson walk into.
~~~~
Julie leaned her forearms against the handle of her cart as she perused her produce options. She selected a container of baby spinach and felt the plump greenhouse tomatoes until she found the perfect one. Beefy portabellas came next, then a couple of oranges along with a bunch of pretty yellow bananas. She strolled to the dairy aisle, grabbing a few cartons of Greek yogurt and a quart of skim milk, then made her way to the cereal aisle, remembering she was almost out of oatmeal.
Another storm front was due in by Friday. If she didn’t get what she needed now, she would be out of luck. Tomorrow she had a full day of yoga classes, and Thursday she was booked for three massages. She reached for the canister of steel cut oats, and someone grabbed her arm.
“Ally.”
Gasping, Julie whirled, dropping the container. Her eyes widened as she stared at the woman who looked so much like her.
“It’s you,” the stranger shuddered out as her hand trembled against Julie’s pale purple sweater. “It’s really you, Ally.”
Julie frowned, trying to figure out what was going on as she gave the woman dressed in a navy blue designer suit and high heels the once over. “I’m sorry. My name is Julie.”
“No.” The woman shook her head adamantly. “You’re Alyson. I would know you anywhere.”
Julie pulled away, growing concerned for the woman who was clearly unstable. “Ma’am, my name is Julie. Julie Keller, not Alison.”
“They took you.” She grabbed Julie’s wrist, clutching. “Someone took you from me, but you’re my daughter.”
“I’m not your daughter.” Julie yanked herself free this time—the desperation in the woman’s eyes was beginning to frighten her. “I have a mother, and she’s not you.”
The woman stepped back as if Julie had slapped her. “I apologize.”
She swallowed and nodded, studying eyes just like hers, the long black hair, and the deep dip in the stranger’s lip so much like her own. “It’s okay.”
The woman turned and walked off, looking over her shoulder before she disappeared around the corner.
~~~~
Chase snagged a loaf of whole wheat bread and tossed it into the basket he carried. He turned to face the opposite row of shelving and scanned the nut options, debating between the cashews and almonds. Shrugging, he grabbed them both and started toward the deli, stopping when he heard the exchange going on in the next aisle.
“You’re Alyson. I would know you anywhere.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry but my name is Julie. Julie Keller, not Alison.”
“They took you. Someone took you from me, but you’re my daughter.”
“I’m not your daughter. I have a mother and she’s not you.”
Chase moved Julie’s way when her sympathetic tone turned tense. He imagined he was the last person she wanted to see, but he wasn’t about to walk off and order a pound of ham while she was being harassed. He walked around the end-cap and blinked as he got a look at the woman dressed in a power suit and heels. She looked just like Julie…or Julie looked just like her.
“I apologize.”
“That’s okay.” She let loose a shaky breath as the woman walked away. Muttering something to herself, she bent down for the canister at her feet just as Chase did. Their hands brushed, and her gaze whipped to his when he grabbed the container before she could.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I—I think she was confused.”
He noted the unmistakable weariness in her eyes as they stood upright. “She was hassling you pretty good. I can go after her. We can call the police.”
She shook her head. “It was just a mistake.”
“Here you go.” He handed her the package of oatmeal as tension hung heavy between them, much like it had the first night they bumped into each other at Sal’s.
“Thanks.” She looked down at the floor, tossed him a glance, then set the cereal in her carriage and started walking away.
“Wait.” He stepped toward her and gently grabbed her arm. “Jules, wait.”
She stopped but didn’t turn and face him.
“Do you think we could talk?”
“We have nothing left to say.” She pulled away and pushed her cart around the corner, leaving him staring after her.
Chapter Twelve
Julie tossed about in the dark as dreams plagued her. Huge Christmas trees, bricks and white pillars, and a small boy wearing Ninja Turtles pajamas flashed through her mind like a camera taking rapid-shot photography. A yellow teddy bear and delicate china cups in a pretty pink room flitted into her subconscious—and away just as quickly. Gasping, she shot up in bed, shaking as she brushed her damp hair away from her sweaty forehead. She grabbed the glass from her nightstand and sat farther up, sipping the cool water and frowning as she tried to recall the fuzzy images already slipping away, but her sleep-fogged brain wouldn’t cooperate. “Just a nightmare,” she mumbled and lay back, settling against her pillows. “Just a nightmare, Jules,” she repeated and closed her eyes, drifting off as quickly as she’d awoken.
Her breathing steadied out, and the twinkling of lights and muffled music filled her head.
A child’s laughter came next and a glimpse of smiling hazel eyes. Did you like it? Did you like the movie, Ally? The laughter and music grew louder, competing with the little voice. Did you like it? Did you like the movie, Ally? Did you like it? Did you like the movie, Ally? Did you like it? Did you like the movie, Ally?
“Stop it!” she screamed, sitting up and fighting for air. “Stop it,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her forehead against her knees. Did you like it? Did you like the movie, Ally? she heard again and pressed her hands over her ears as if that would make the voice go away. Trembling, her heart raced as she sucked in several ragged breaths with the sudden need to weep. Why was this happening? What was happening, and why was she so afraid?
“Silly nightmares,” she assured herself, clutching her arms tighter around her legs. Bad dreams were always awful, but seemed worse in the wee hours of morning. And that’s what this was—troubling dreams resulting from the recent turmoil in her life: Chase, her business woes, crappy finances. Clearly the woman at the store had spooked her some. It wasn’t every day strange women grabbed her in the cereal aisle and insisted she was their long-lost daughter. Overall she’d had a weird couple of weeks, but things were going to be okay. Chase would be gone soon, OM Studio was going to weather the storm, and Miranda Keller—not the crazy lady from the store—was her mother.
Sighing, more relaxed, she rested her cheek on her knee and closed her eyes. A few seconds passed while she listened to the steady ticking of her alarm clock then her eyes flew open with the next wave of distressing thoughts. Why didn’t she look like Miranda Keller? Why did she have the same eyes, lips, and hair color as the woman who was certain she was her daughter?
Too churned up to sleep, she pulled back her covers and put on her robe, unable to shake the burdens weighing so heavily on her mind and heart. She went across the hall to the living room, turned on the Christmas tree lights, and sat on the couch, opening her laptop.
What was she doing exactly? Looking to see if someone had taken her? How was she going to do that? And wouldn’t she remember? She tried to smile at the ridiculousness of this whole thing but couldn’t. She typed Alison kidnapped into Google and got thousands of hits. With an unsteady hand, she clicked on the first. A little girl named Alison Manning had been taken on her way home from school last month in Florida.
She clicked on the next, read about another Alison who disappeared in Missouri last spring, but once again, not her. She perused more than twenty sites, and there was nothing about anyone who looked like her. “See? Pure silliness.”
She glanced at the clock in the top right corner of her screen, realizing she’d lost more than two hours of sleep. In an hour and a half, she would have to get up. She closed the laptop and left the tree on, ready to put this foolishness away. People resembled other people. Supposedly everyone had a twin in the world, and she’d seen hers at Food and Stuff. She wasn’t Alison or Allie. She was Julie Elizabeth Keller, and she had a class to teach at 8:30.
~~~~
The last of Julie’s students left at 10:30. She grabbed her jacket from the peg in the kitchen and hurried out to her Prius, getting in and backing up with a slight peel of rubber. She turned on Main Street, passing Sal’s, the old movie theater, and the city pool where she spent the hot days of summer so long ago, and kept going. She wouldn’t find what she was looking for here in town.
Ten miles turned into fifteen as she made her way to Pine Forest State Park. She and Chase had rarely played there as children with everything they needed just a quick walk away. Through the years, she’d traveled to the tourist spot a time or two to celebrate a birthday or attend an evening barbeque but not often enough to remember the details or layout. But she needed to see the fountain.
As she was putting her class through the paces of hot yoga, her mind kept flashing back to a fountain—a big beautiful fountain with several cascading tiers by a slide and swings. She and a boy with black hair wore shorts and t-shirts while they tossed coins into the water.
It had to be the fountain at Pine Forest, but the boy she kept seeing wasn’t Chase. She’d rarely played with anyone else during the summers, favoring Chase’s company over anyone else’s, knowing eventually he would go back to Seattle and leave her alone in Bakersfield. So who was the child, and where had she seen the huge stone fountain before?
She pulled into the untreated parking lot as far as she dared and got out, jogging toward the swings. There was a slide and teeter-totters but no fountain. “Oh, God.” She pressed a hand to her sinking stomach, certain she would have found it there. “Oh, God,” she said again and ran back to her Prius as if something chased her, fighting the unexplained surge of panic. She gripped the steering wheel as her breath rushed in and out and a tear trailed down her cheek. “What am I doing? Why am I doing this?” Why couldn’t she let this go? She slammed her eyes shut in an attempt to gain control and consciously relaxed her fingers on the wheel, inhaling and exhaling slowly, until she could actually think. “Florida.” She opened her eyes. “It has to be in Florida.” She laughed, relaxing and chuckled again with a shake of her head. She’d been born in the Sunshine State and spent the first four years of her life there. She was making herself crazy over nothing. The woman from the grocery store was messing with her head.
Turning over the ignition, she started home, driving more slowly this time, enjoying the snow-covered scenery as she headed closer to town. She had a busy afternoon—three more classes, two loads of laundry, and a small list of supplies she needed to order for the massage room. She didn’t have time to worry about issues that didn’t exist.
Taking a left on Old Hickory Lane, she noted Chase’s pickup parked in Nana’s drive, and pulled into her spot by her house. She went inside, grabbed a yogurt from the fridge, and went upstairs to change for the next round of yoga, intentionally avoiding her usual in-between-class chat with Leila. Instead of walking into her bedroom, she veered to the living room—straight to the bookshelf—and pulled the two picture albums free. She set her snack on the coffee table and leafed through the first: Gram and Gramps when they were younger, and Mom growing up. Setting the first book on the floor, she picked up the next and smiled at her and Chase with red popsicle juice staining their mouths, then her first day of preschool and kindergarten. She’d worn her hair so short back in those days—boy-cut, the way Mom liked best, until third grade when Julie decided she wanted to wear it longer. She chuckled at the dozens and dozens of pictures of her and Chase swimming in the pond, at the pool, fishing, growing through the years, and their formal shots from each other’s proms. But there was no fountain or a single shot of the black-haired boy. Frowning, she paused, realizing she was still looking even after her earlier reasoning made perfect sense.
She turned to the next page and stared at the professional family photo, the last one taken before Mom and Gramps died in the car accident south of town. Her breathing grew uneven as she traced Gram and Gramps, then Mom’s face, focusing for the first time on the complete lack of resemblance. None.
Her mother had been a strawberry blonde with blue eyes and pale skin that burned when she stayed outside for more than a few minutes. Gram had been similar. Gramps’ hair had been darker, but not black, and both her grandparents shared their daughter’s eye color.
Nibbling her lip, she slid her finger over the images of her family again, missing them and wondering for the first time. She’d never given a lot of thought to not looking like the rest of the Keller Clan. Mom always said she was the spitting image of her father, but Julie couldn’t say one way or the other, because she’d never met him. She searched for him once after her mom died and Chase left, but she’d never located Dale Abbot.
Desperate to settle this once and for all, she pulled out the decorative boxes holding more of her past and dumped them out, searching for anything from her very early childhood. Mom told her all of the baby pictures had been lost in the apartment fire where they’d lived in Florida b
efore they moved home to Washington, but there had to be something here among the piles her mother lovingly kept. A picture sent to Gram and Gramps—anything. But she couldn’t find one.
She sat back on her foot, pressing her fingers to her temple. She needed answers, and there were few people who could give them to her. Grabbing her computer, she searched her contacts, then picked up her phone.
“Hello?”
“Bonnie, this is Julie Keller.”
“Jules,” Chase’s mother’s voice brightened. “Honey, it’s nice to hear from you.”
Bonnie’s voice was a comfort, but she didn’t have time for small talk. She had another class in less than an hour and needed someone to banish this horrible sense of dread plaguing her. “Thanks. I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Okay. Is everything all right?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen Chase? I know he was heading your way?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen him around.” And that’s all she planned to say about that.
“What can I help you with, honey?”
Where did she start? “What was I like when I was little?”
“You were just the sweetest doll baby. I used to tell Nana all the time how much I wanted to bring you home with me.”
That’s wasn’t exactly what she was looking for. “What was my mom like as a child?”
“Well, I was a good eight years older than her, honey. We weren’t friends the way you and Chase were—just neighbors.”
She pressed her lips together, trying to remain patient. She wanted Bonnie to say something that would erase every iota of doubt. “What do you remember?”
“She was shy and quiet.”
“Did she have any friends?”