by Various
With friendly goodbyes, she clicked the off button. Her hand was shaking, but she didn’t want to let go of Jordan. She took a deep breath and dialed the number Lynn had given them. It rang twice and the automated voice telling them the phone number was no long in service filled the line. She jabbed the off button and scribbled over the number on the piece of paper.
“Chels, it doesn’t seem like we’re getting anywhere, but we are.”
“Yeah? Well, where are we now? Do we have Elizabeth back? We sure as hell don’t.” She jumped up from the chair and stomped out of the den. Jordan followed right behind her as she made her way to the living room windows but she refused to turn around. She stood there, watching the rain pelt against every surface on the outside world. He walked up beside her and for awhile, neither of them said anything.
“We know someone died. We know it wasn’t Muriel and it seems the Markales didn’t have any other close family. The death had to be either Zack or Monique, right?” He slid his arm around
her shoulder, drawing her against him.
She shrugged. “I guess.” Her head rested on his shoulder.
“My guess would be Zack, since Muriel got the house.” He played with her hair again. The casual action warmed her heart.
“But Monique would’ve gotten the house since they were married.”
“Not if there was a prenup. A divorce would prevent us from finding Monique, with a name change and all. We’ll need to go to the courthouse tomorrow to view the court records.”
“I have an idea.” She wiped her tears away and decided it wasn’t as bad as she had thought.
They had come a long way. “We can do it online.”
Once back at the computer, her fingers flew over the keys. She typed their names into the search engine again. They had to have some information somewhere, right? People didn’t drop off the earth like that. Did they?
“What are you doing?” Jordan came in and sat beside her.
“Just a general search. Being professionals, they could have websites or news articles about them.” She slipped her glasses back on.
“Good idea.”
The results included several pages. The first one was for the people search sites they had already tried. She scrolled down the page a little ways, and slid her finger down the screen, reading each website description. She tapped the screen at a link that seemed more promising than the others.
“Look at this. It’s an article from the newspaper archives.” She clicked the link and within seconds the website revealed the article.
“What’s the article about?” Jordan leaned over to see the screen.
“Hold on. It’s loading.” She gasped. “Couple found dead.”
“Was Elizabeth with them?” he asked as his hand wrapped around her thigh.
She was quiet for a minute so she could read the article. “It says they were in a hit-and-run car accident. Both Monique and Zack were found by a jogger. They were already deceased when
the police arrived.”
“And Elizabeth?”
“At school. When this article was written, social services were trying to locate any family of the Markales.”
“Oh shit,” he replied. “That explains it.” Jordan got up and paced the small office.
“But this article claims they spoke with all of the neighbors. Everyone knew what happened.” She tapped the screen.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” He whirled around, red-faced and fists clenched.
“Nope.”
“That means the woman lied to us. We could’ve found Elizabeth by now.” She reached out to him but he turned away instead of letting her touch him. “Why doesn’t anyone want me to have
my daughter?”
“I want you to have her, Jordan.”
He sat back down in the chair and gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “I won’t ever give up on the search. Let’s see what else we find.”
“Here are some more articles.” She clicked the button and then closed her eyes for a moment, afraid to see what the articles would reveal. This meant according to the state, Elizabeth would be an orphan. Her stomach did somersaults. What if Elizabeth wasn’t somewhere safe? This wasn’t good news. Not good at all.
“I wonder if she has been adopted. She was only five when they died.” Jordan’s voice shook and he moved his hand off her leg.
“It’s possible,” she said, opening her eyes. “Let’s see what these have to say.”
All of the articles were begging any family to come forward. Each of them rehashed the same details of the accident with a final plea at the end. In the last article, the reporter stated Elizabeth would be going into the foster care system. A statement from the caseworker gave her phone number in case anyone had any information regarding the family. Not caring about the time, she picked up the phone anyway. With any luck, the woman would still work for the agency.
Here was the woman who held the cards. She knew the answers.
She needed to talk with her. This woman, Mrs. Rikkard, would be able to tell her where her child was. Nausea threatened to erupt when she heard a recorded voice.
“The extension is no longer valid,” she whispered but didn’t hang up. She listened to the voice prompts again to buy them time to figure out a plan.
“Figures.”
“Oh, there’s a directory,” she exclaimed, listened for a few minutes, and then said, “She still works for the agency.” She pushed the button leading to the woman’s voicemail.
After leaving a brief message stating she was a family member of Elizabeth Markales, she pushed the off button on the phone. The nausea didn’t seem to want to go away. What if her daughter had been adopted? What if they never found her? The thought made her throw the phone on the desk and bolt from the office. Jordan called after her, but she couldn’t answer. At least make it to the bathroom, she thought to herself.
Her hand pressed against her mouth as she ran through the apartment and as she flung herself to the toilet. Her body heaved as tears trickled down her cheeks. Once finished, she brushed her
teeth to relieve her mouth of the after taste.
The stomach acid must’ve burned her throat. She went to the fridge to find something to drink. Her tap water tasted nasty. With nothing in the fridge to drink, she’d have to settle for the water.
“Chelsea!” Jordan called from the office. “Come here.”
She turned the tap water off and found him in front of the computer. He twirled the chair around to face her, his eyes wide and mouth open.
“What’s wrong?”
“We missed an article. Suzanne and Lee Banash had a custody battle with Muriel Markales.”
She leaned over his shoulder to get a closer look of the article. The woman holding Elizabeth’s hand wasn’t Muriel or Monique, but the neighbor who’d claimed to know nothing. Why had Suzanne lied about Elizabeth? Had Elizabeth’s presence in the house been the cause for all of the hostility toward them?
“Who won custody?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t say and this is the last article I can find.”
“There’s a lot of unanswered questions. Maybe we should—”
“Check out Suzanne’s house in the morning. See if our little girl goes running off to the school bus?”
“I have a feeling she’s there. Why else wouldn’t Suzanne tell us the truth?”
“My thoughts exactly. Hungry?”
She walked into the kitchen, not knowing how to deal with the information they’d learned. “I can’t eat anything. Just need a drink.”
She twisted the knob to fill the glass halfway. Better than nothing. After gulping it down, she put the glass into the sink. He followed her from the kitchen. She curled up on the recliner. She loved the big chair. It’s big enough for her to sit cross-legged
in, wrapped in a blanket on cold winter nights. Tonight it would comfort her from the heartache and fear.
“I’m going to grab us something for dinner.
” He stayed by the door.
“You don’t have to.” She let her eyes drift shut.
“I’m going anyway. What would you like?” He walked over to her and she wished he didn’t.
Nothing, but she wouldn’t get away with that answer. “There are a bunch of stores and restaurants down the street. No more burgers, please.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he said, bending down and kissing her on the forehead. “Don’t worry, honey. She’ll be okay. We’ll find her.”
She admired his optimism. She really did, even though she didn’t have any of her own. Every road so far had been nothing but a dead end, not her favorite. She wondered if that was why she liked running away from things.
Alone in the silence, she was able to get lost in her own thoughts. No television played or clock ticked. The fridge didn’t even offer a hum. The unfamiliar sound of the ringing phone startled her.
CHAPTER 12
She swiped the handset off the cradle and pushed the talk button. It had to be something important. “Hello?” Her mouth stayed in a frown.
“Is this Ms. Montgomery?” The female voice sounded polite, but formal.
“Uh, yes. How can I help you?”
“This is Mrs. Rikkard, Elizabeth Markales’ former case worker. I normally wouldn’t return calls after hours, but I checked my voicemail. Is this a good time?”
“Thank you for calling me back so quickly.” She sat up in the chair and tried her best to push the butterflies from her stomach.
“It’s strange hearing from a family member so late in the game.”
“I have been looking for her and came across an article about the accident.” She picked at a loose string on the armchair.
“Yes. It was a messy case. Luckily, we were able to resolve it.” The woman sounded relieved.
She could imagine what a difficult time the caseworker had been through trying to locate someone. But what about her? She wanted the girl back, if not with her, then with Jordan.
“So she’s no longer in the foster care system?” She sunk back into the recliner. The air sucked out of her lungs. Don’t let her be adopted. She didn’t need to consult a lawyer to know there was little hope if those adoption papers had been signed.
“No. She was in for about a week before we located an estranged family member. Another family wanted custody, causing Elizabeth to be in the system during the court proceedings. ”
Her lungs felt like they were squeezing shut. “Who has her now?” Please give me something to go on.
“I cannot disclose her name, but I can tell you the family member received the custody order from the judge.”
“Was she adopted? Do you know where they are? What city?” Typing could be heard over the line. She held onto a sliver of hope that she could get some kind of lead from the woman.
“As far as I know she hasn’t been adopted, but that may have changed. We went over the rights and adoption was an option, but she declined. I cannot disclose the other information.”
“Do you check on her at all?”
“No. Once all of the background checks were clear, we closed the case. ”
“I imagine so. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“No.” Keys rattled. Mrs. Rikkard was probably getting ready to leave the office.
Her hand trembled as she told the woman goodbye before clicking the off button and placed the phone on the holder. Another dead end. Would they ever reach their destination? The place
where they wanted to be? The one with Jordan holding sweet Elizabeth in his arms at last? She doubted it.
They were never going to find her and Jordan would go on hating her. Sure, she sometimes saw the glint of love in his eyes, but it was rare. He still resented her in his heart. She knew it. That’s why she wouldn’t fool herself and stay in Wilson.
She curled her legs up in the recliner and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Twenty minutes since he had left. She hoped it took him awhile longer to get back. She wasn’t ready to tell him she’d struck out again. Why had she done it? Oh right, she thought bitterly, selling a baby was the easy way out.
Less than five minutes later, the front door opened and then shut. “Honey, I’m home,” he sang out in a bad Ricky Ricardo impersonation. He froze once he saw the expression on her face.
“The case worker called,” she mumbled. Her eyes stayed focused on her hands. She couldn’t look at him when she revealed the news.
“She did? Where’s Elizabeth?” He dropped their bag of food onto the coffee table and sat down on the couch and thrust a Styrofoam cup in her direction.
“Elizabeth is living with a family member who turned down the adoption option. She wouldn’t reveal the name or give me any other information. I’m sure it’s Muriel.” She pulled the straw out of the wrapper and slammed it through the plastic hole in the lid. Not caring about the contents of the cup, she eagerly put it to her lips.
“But she didn’t say for sure?” He stopped at the window. His back was to her as always whenever he became mad at her. His hands jammed into his pockets, causing the muscles in his forearms to tighten. After a moment he turned to look at her, his face twisted in a scowl before turning back to the window.
His presence seemed to be intruding on the living room. Earlier, he had been so welcome here, now it seemed he’d became a stranger in her sacred space. She wanted him to leave so she could curl up and cry alone until she reached her state of denial.
“What are we going to do now?” She didn’t want to be having this conversation. She wanted him to walk out the door so she wouldn’t have to feel anymore. Feel the loss of her child, feel the
love for him, or feel the sadness of what she’d done.
“Damn it all to hell.” His voice boomed through the room.
“Jordan, I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears streaked down her face.
“Stop saying you’re sorry! I’m tired of hearing it. If you hadn’t sold our baby we wouldn’t be here right now. We’d be home. We’d be happy. We would be a family.” His strong voice flung out as if a bomb had gone off.
“Are you ever going to ever forgive me?” She shrank farther into the chair.
“I have every right to be angry with you, Chelsea. Do you know what I went through when you disappeared?” He took a few steps toward her.
“No,” she said, lowering her voice. “I won’t even pretend I do.”
“I went through hell.” His fist banged into his chest.
“As if I haven’t gone through anything.” The words shot at him like bullets.
“You?” He spat. “What have you gone through? Missing your daughter? You, darling, chose this! I didn’t.” He stomped over to the window and looked outside.
She kept her legs curled up in the chair, as if it would shield her from the hurt she’d caused him. It seemed like they had come so far in mending the issues between them, now they were taking ten steps backward.
“Jordan, please.” She swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks.
“Please what? Please forgive you? Please accept my daughter is gone? Please forget about my love for you? You might be able to, but not me!” He turned to her, his eyes blazing with fury.
She shot up from the couch. “Forget? You think I can forget you? Look at this.” She undid the zipper on her jeans to reveal the tattoo. “Remember this? I can never forget you with this branding
on me! I can’t even look in the damn mirror without remembering!”
“I hope it haunts you like it did me for ten years.” His voice lowered but didn’t lose an ounce of anger. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I didn’t know if someone abducted you, or if I did
something wrong to make you leave.” His arms crossed over his chest. The anger seemed to be dissolving a bit with each word. “I lay awake at night wondering where you were and what you
were doing right at that moment. Every damned night, Chelsea.”
“I’m so sor—Oh, never mind.” S
he turned to go back to her chair but the heat of his hand on her shoulder stopped her. She covered it with her own. His fingers entwined with hers.
“I know you’re sorry,” he whispered. “I accept your apology.”
She turned toward him. She put her hands on his chest and fingered his wet t-shirt. “Take this off. You’re going to get sick.”
“I don’t care.” He wiped his tears away. “The only things I care about are you and Elizabeth.”
She moved her hand off his shoulder to pull his shirt up over his head so he wouldn’t be cold anymore. He might not care if he got sick, but she did. Before she knew it, her lips were against his moist flesh. She kissed his shoulder and then moved down his chest. She let her mouth nibble gently as she moved all the way down his abs to the waistband of his jeans. A soft moan escaped his lips as she continued to move back and forth across his abs. This had always been her favorite place to kiss, just above the button of his jeans. It teased them both; with one flick of the button he would bust free.
His penis crushed against the denim, begging to be freed and it had been too long for her.
She wanted to free his erection, take hold of it. Instead, she kissed upwards, nibbled on his nipple, causing a louder groan of pleasure and a harder erection, which she didn’t think could be possible. She flicked the button on his jeans and slid them over his hips. The tattoo. She needed to see it.
Her hand slid over the spot on his hip where it should be but she couldn’t bring herself to look. She stood but kept her hand over the place. “Is it still there?” she whispered in his ear.
“It will be there forever.” He pulled her against his body. “Like my love for you.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. She whispered, “I need you,” between kisses across his neck.
His hand grasped the back of her head. His mouth claimed hers as he walked back toward the couch, pulling her with him. He sat down, giving her the perfect opportunity to climb on him, straddling
his lap. The hardness in his jeans brushed against her thighs. She shifted. It needed to be against her core so he could feel how wet he made her. Her hips rocked back and forth against him.