“I’m scared,” I shakily admit. Being completely honest with my husband comes naturally. To put my feelings out there for him to bear is always met with the right answers and the perfect touch. I rely on Harlan to be my strong foundation when everything else is crumbling around me, and he has never let me down.
“He’s fine, Joslyn.”
“I hope so, baby. I don’t think-”
“He. Is. Fine. We’re not going to think otherwise.”
“Davian is not home. As long as he’s not where he belongs, I can’t help how I feel.”
“Dave is going to make it back. We’re going to be alright. Watch what I tell you.”
“Harlan, baby, I’ve missed you. I don’t know how long I’ve held on without you.”
“Come here.”
I lean into his chest and drown in his scent and warmth.
“Harlan,” Oliver calls from the entrance.
Why am I not surprised? I sit back up and brush my hair back. Of course, I know what Oliver is about to say, and I wait for it.
“Son, I need to talk to you for a minute…without her being in here.”
Harlan’s face contorts. “Who’s her? Are you talking about my wife, Dad?”
“It’s important,” Oliver says with a serious tone.
“Excuse me,” a woman interrupts from the hallway. He quickly moves but continues to hold open the door.
A nurse remarks as two more walk in around her, “We have to take Mr. Montgomery to X-Ray.”
Oliver puckers his lips, and his dark eyes glares at me as if I’m responsible for the intrusion.
I ignore him, turning my attention to Harlan to give him a kiss. I’m not trying to make a show in front of Oliver, but I’m sure that’s how he sees it. Doesn’t matter to me. I’m not going to worry about that old man and what he thinks.
After gently wiping Harlan’s sweet lips and telling him that I love him, I go right up to Oliver, motioning him to leave first. He’s a statue of a man, but I’m not intimidated. He gives me one last nasty glare, turns on his heels, and heads down the hallway. Terrence, Sarah, and Jeremiah are confused as they watch him make hard, quick steps. My mom is talking to Jackie. They didn’t notice Oliver at all. Good thing. Really don’t feel like trying to break up that battle.
The kids surround me and begin questioning me all at once. I console them. He’s still breathing, I tell them. He’s not asleep. He’s not dead, either. He’s still talking. Same things, of course, but spoken a little differently. My words do nothing to appease them.
When Harlan is rolled out, the family gathers around him as if he’s a brand new born baby. Two nurses wave their arms for everyone to make a hole. The third is writing on his chart. As he’s being rolled away, Harlan gives a thumbs up. I know he’s going to be fine, but I’m still very much afraid for him.
“Where are they taking him?” Kristina asks.
“X-Ray, honey,” I answer. “He’ll be back.”
The family begins to settle down into chairs and benches in the hallway, and it finally quiets down. I take this moment to hug Jackie. Don’t know when she arrived, but I’m really glad to see her. Terrence and Sarah are talking with Jeremiah. My mom fusses over Kale’s tucked in collar. Kristina and Janae sit together and keep their attention in the direction their father went. I swear they’re holding their breaths, just waiting for his return. It’s nice to see everyone all together, though. I am somewhat happy, but there’s a hollow place in my heart. A void that’s more painful than the love I feel right now. It’s not fair that we’re suffering like this. It’s not fair at all.
Chapter Thirty-One
After waiting for what seems like eons, Harlan is returned. We’re not allowed back in his room until the nurses finish whatever else they have to do, which drives the kids into a fidgeting storm. They want instant access to their dad. It’s not long before they’re demand is met, and the nurses can hardly get out the door before the kids rush right by them.
I mouth an apology to the last one, and she nods with a grin. I supposed she’s used to overbearing families. The nurse strolls down the hallway, white shoes squeaking. Terrence is paying close attention, not to the shoes of course.
Jackie tells me she’s going to speak to Harlan first, and then she has to head back home. I wait in the hallway. Her visit doesn’t last long, almost five minutes at the most, and she comes back out.
We walk to the elevator together, and I begin to really think about these last few days. I have to give it to my sister. She’s loyal and dedicated. She’s stayed at the house, waiting for any possible ransom phone call, and she has never wavered. Even before she came to the hospital today, she had the phones forwarded from the house to her cell. That way if the kidnappers did call, she wouldn’t miss it.
Jackie has no idea how grateful I am. She’s been on point from day one, and not once has she complained. Davian is not even her son. She has no children, but she has treated him as though she birthed him herself. Jackie’s behavior when compared to mine has been absolutely stellar and how a real mom should act. I’m truly ashamed of myself.
Looking back at my activities and behavior, I realize I was being disrespectful to Jennifer Briggs by going to her home and making accusations in front of her family. I also understand that I was wrong for visiting Lucy Davis. Her son is dead, killed by my husband, and now she’s in prison…because of me. My nastiness towards Gia Briggs from the very beginning was the catalyst. I should have stayed away, far away from them.
What was I really trying to accomplish? Make the families confess? And if they would have admitted to taking Davian or knowing who did, what would I really have done about it? Threatened them? Made them take me to my son? As if they’d actually confess to such horrible crimes of kidnapping and attempted murder. I was fooling my foolish mind. Jackie had the right idea. Stay put at home. Wait for the phone calls. Be available for the police for questions, for any help they needed. Let them do their jobs and don’t make it harder than it already is. Oh no, I was the idiot chasing what I thought was the truth.
The elevator doors slide open with a ding, and Jackie gets inside. I don’t want her to leave, not without truly thanking her. Words dry up in the back of my throat. Tears well up as if a wet sponge has been squeezed. I grab her and hug her tight, blocking the doors from closing. Thank God for the sensible ones that’s placed in the lives of fools. Thank God for the patience my sister has always had for me. Thank God for Jackie.
For a long moment, we let our hug speak volumes. Only the annoying continuous blare of the bell separates us. I stand back, and she wipes tears from her cheeks. I’m wiping moisture from mine, as well. Where would I be in this life without her? Partially full and lacking a good ample part of my soul. The elevator closes, and I let out a long breath.
If these days don’t destroy me, I might be stronger in the end. I say that I ‘might’ because there’s the one factor that continues to threaten to break me. And if that factor, my son, doesn’t come home, I’ll wither away, without any possibility of recovery.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The phone in Harlan’s room ring. It’s the first time I’ve heard it since he’s been there.
“I’ll get it,” I remark so that Harlan and Terrence can continue their conversation on a show they like to watch on the Golf channel. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Montgomery, Detective Richardson here. I have a question for you.”
What now? “You better not be calling to accuse me of something.” My words grab the attention of Harlan and Terrence.
“No, no, I’m not calling to do that. You remember we were talking about how Allison James took your cell phone. What about your husband? Does he have one?”
“Yes, but I don’t know where it is.” I turn to Harlan. “Where is your cell phone? Detective Richardson wants to know.”
“I had it with me in my pants pocket when I got hurt. Let me talk to him.”
I hand Harlan the phone.
�
��Detective Richardson, you’re asking about my cell?” He listens for the answer. “It was in my pants pocket when I got out of the SUV.” He continues to listen. “Well, if you have my clothes from the incident and you’ve checked the truck, then I don’t know where it is. Joslyn, did you ever see it while at the scene?”
I shake my head as an answer. “But I did search for it. I couldn’t find it.”
“You heard her?” Harlan says into the receiver. He pauses. Then starts nodding after a few seconds and says, “Alright, Detective Richardson. I’ll see you soon.”
Harlan hangs up. I’m very interested in knowing what the detective said, and I give Harlan a raised eyebrow, indicating for him to spill it.
“He said that they never found my phone. He’s thinking I should try and call it. Perhaps, the kidnappers took it, and they’ve been waiting for us to make contact. But he wants me to wait until he gets here.”
“That is a good idea,” I remark excitedly.
“I don’t think they have it,” Terrence comments.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because they would have called somebody on the contact list and made a ransom demand by now. They haven’t done that. They probably did steal your phone, though, but tossed it, just like they tossed Joslyn’s phone.”
“You got a point,” Harlan says with disappointment.
Terrence’s realistic view has just burst our bubble of optimism, but I’m trying to remain hopeful. I’m fighting to keep the faith that Davian is still alive.
It’s not long before Detective Richardson walks in, and he has Detective Sawyer with him. He introduces her to Harlan, and they shake hands. The usual introductory questions are cut short. Detective Richardson wants to get right to the task at hand.
“Alright, Mrs. Montgomery, I want you to make the call. Do you have your cell with you?”
I pull it out of my purse immediately and hold it up.
“Call your husband’s number but put it on speaker. If they answer, do not tell them about us, the police. Don’t tell them where you are. Ask them what they want. Ask them about proof of life. You want to hear Davian speak, and then set up a meeting place for the exchange.”
“And if they don’t answer?” Harlan asks.
“Then we keep calling,” Detective Sawyer adds.
My heart is thumping as I dial the numbers. The moment I finish, Harlan’s voicemail answers. The excitement is squashed instantly, and I look disappointedly at the detectives and disconnect the call.
“I want you to try again but hold on a minute,” Detective Richardson pulls out a piece of paper and begins scribbling notes onto it. His hand is moving fast as he silently mouths the words. After reading his statement, he rips off the note and hands it to me.
“Try again,” he repeats firmly. “But this time leave that message.”
I read it and show Harlan and Terrence. Both of them look to me once done and nod their approval.
“Fifty grand,” my husband says. “Offer fifty grand.”
I select the last dialed number in the call list. No ring. The voicemail comes up once again.
I’m so scared that I stumble the first few words. I close my eyes for a second and then regain my voice. I try to sound angry but confident this time. “To the people that took Davian. I am his mother. I am willing to pay you fifty thousand dollars for the release of my son.” I adlib from there. Anger more than confidence this time. “Did you hear what I said? Fifty grand, but you better not have hurt my son in any kind of way. You name the place and the time, and I will be there with every penny of that money. But first, I want proof that my son is alive and healthy. You have my number. Call me.” I disconnect, letting go all of the air in my lungs. Blinking back the tears, I hand the note back to Detective Richardson and wipe my eyes. I feel like I’m going to faint and never be able to recover. Harlan takes my shaking hand, squeezing it.
“You did good, honey,” Harlan consoles me. It’s not enough to hear him say that. Nothing seems to be enough honestly, not as long as Davian is not with us.
I walk over to the window, just to feel the last bit of sun on my face. I can see the children with Sarah and Jeremiah walking across the parking lot. They are returning from McDonald’s. Their Happy Meal boxes in hand. Kristina is back to having her nose in her video game. Almost normal, but not quite there. Will we ever get to that point again?
We begin the wait. My cell never rings an incoming call. It just beeps of text messages from Charli. I don’t even make an effort to read them or call her. I just don’t want to hear anything she has to say. Eventually, thirty minutes go by and then an hour. All of us eventually come to the conclusion that up to four things happened to the phone. The kidnappers destroyed it, tossed it, it’s dead, or it’s just plain old lost. And with all of those options, they will not be able to get my message. It was worth a try.
Detective Richardson and Detective Sawyer decide to leave. But they let us know before depart that my number will be tracked for any incoming calls matching Harlan’s cell number. What little bit of hope I had of their plan to corner those criminals are gone the moment the door closes behind them.
Another three days are almost done, and I’m still without my oldest son. I’m utterly pissed off, sad, and scared. It’s just all way too exhausting, too much to deal with.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When it’s time to go home, I take the kids with me. No more spending the night with my mom. I missed them. But it’s hard on all of us to leave Harlan. He wants us to go home, get some rest, and come back tomorrow. We don’t want to, but what choice do we have really? The kids do need their rest, and we can’t stay overnight in the hospital.
The ride back to Tudor is a quiet one. Everyone is in their own thoughts. Kale sits beside me, eyes closed, head crooked against the door. I should have made him sit in the backseat. He’s too small to be in the front, but I’m so glad to see his face. His perfectly round cheeks reflects the light off of passing street lamps. His nose is peeling. He probably got too much sun at my mom’s house.
When we get home, I make them take a bath and put on their pajamas. Kristina wants to watch a movie afterwards in the great hall, and I’m agreeable to that. Usually, I prefer for them to go to their rooms and go to bed, but I haven’t seen them in so long. While they’re arguing about what to watch from the endless array of choices in my sister’s library, I pop two bags of popcorn and separate the kernels equally into three bowls. This simple act pains me to tears. I would love to prepare two more bowls of popcorn. I’d give anything to do that right now.
“Mom,” Kale says from the entrance to the kitchen.
I quickly wipe my tears away. “Hey, sweetheart!” I muster a big smile.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m alright,” I remark, sniffing and wiping my face on a dishtowel. “The popcorn is ready.”
He comes directly over to me. I stop short, looking in his eyes. He has concern. My son sees all the hurt I’ve been trying to hide. Normally, I’ll be straight up honest with him, with all of my children really, and I’ll tell him what’s wrong. But I can’t this time. I want to shield him from all the bad in the world.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Kale takes my hands.
“What for?”
“For being so mean to you the other day. I told you to stop lying. That Dave and Dad was gone, and there was nothing you could do about it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so mean.”
“It’s okay, Kale. I’m sorry, too, for not being there for you guys the past couple of days. I neglected you, and I won’t do it again.”
He smiles at me, and I bend down to give him a hug. He wraps his little arms around my neck. I’m doing all I can to stop myself from becoming a total mush.
“Aww, ain’t that sweet.”
I look over to the entrance, and instantly, I’m heated. It’s Charli.
“Kale, take these two bowls with you,” I reply, straightening back up. “I’ll bring in the thi
rd in a minute. Go ahead and start the movie without me.”
He does as I say, and I wait until he’s completely out of sight before speaking. “How did you get in?”
“The front door was unlocked,” Charli says as she comes over and gives me a superficial hug. “I can’t remember the last time I saw your kids. They’re all getting so big.”
“Yes, they are.” I’m really not in the mood for her visit, and I’m not even trying to hide it. I’m tired and cranky, and I don’t want to partake in any rumors, lies, or plots to take down another neighbor.
“So how is everything?” Charli flips her hair back behind her shoulder and leans on the island.
“A little better. Harlan is awake.”
“That’s good news. What about your meeting with Lucy Davis? How did that go?”
I know she saw me on the ground with a double barrel shotgun pointed at my head. Why would she ask that question? I stare at her.
“What?” she says with a lift of her shoulders.
Now, I’m completely irritated. “You’ve seen me all over the news, Charli. I’m sure you’re well aware of how our meeting went.”
“Well, I did see the front yard fiasco, but before that, did she tell you anything about Davian?”
Front yard fiasco? Really? I sigh and remark, “No, she didn’t.”
“Okay, so, what’s your next step?”
Why is she even asking? Charli doesn’t care about what happens to Davian. She never has. She doesn’t even like it when I bring him over to her house.
“This is a private family matter,” I reply. “I won’t be sharing our plans with you.”
“But you can’t just let this go. We’re talking about your son, Joslyn.”
“Who said I’ve let it go?” I ask hotly.
“You’re standing here like there’s nothing else left for you to do.”
“Charli, Harlan and I are handling this as a family, and we don’t want any outsiders involved. I appreciate your concern, but your help is not needed anymore.”
Joslyn (Women of Privilege Book 3) Page 15