“Oh, I think that I have a clue,” I said sarcastically. “Please, go on.”
“I assisted her during labor. Man she was in a whole lot of pain. I finally couldn’t take her screaming anymore so I called the paramedics. By the time they got here and transported her to the hospital, our baby was stillborn. He'd strangled on his own umbilical cord, something that wouldn't have happened if a doctor had been there.”
“What happened after that?” I prodded. I needed the whole story; everything that he knew that could help me figure out where the nut job had taken my baby.
“She kinda lost it. She said that had been her last chance to have a child, and that she'd always wanted one. I guess she had gone through an abortion years back, and after that, a doctor had told her that she'd have problems conceiving. I mean, she just seemed to go off the deep end. She didn’t seem to want me any longer…”
He broke off then, genuinely upset about discussing this with me. He seemed devastated about what had happened.
“What'd she mean about always wanting to have a child? What did she think I was, for Chrissake?”
“You don’t know, do you?” He paused, stubbing his cigarette out. “I didn’t think you did.”
He got up and poured more coffee into his mug. A sardonic smile passed briefly across his face. He shook his head as if he wasn’t all that surprised that I apparently was to be the last one to find out about what he was ready to tell me.
“She’s not your mom. She’s your aunt,” he stated simply. “Your birth mom died before you were a year old. They were sisters. Maggie took you in to raise. She wasn't too happy about it, either. Said she did it because she'd promised her sister, your mother, she would. I think she did it for the money. It was always about the money with her.”
I was suddenly filled with raw emotion, some of it was relief knowing that I wasn't a direct descendant of the duplicitous bitch; but I also wondered if my birth mom had been cut from the same cloth as "Aunt Maggie." If that was the case, it was a moot point.
“Speaking of which,” I interrupted, “what did she do with the fifty-plus thousand dollars she stole from my trust fund last year?”
It was Daniel’s turn to be blind-sided. I could tell he had no clue about the money she took from me. “She didn’t have any money to speak of that I knew about when she got here. She'd cashed her last pay check, closed her checking account, and came in her Jeep loaded down with her clothes and some personal shit. That was about it.”
“Did she have a job while she lived here with you?”
He snorted derisively, which answered my question. She'd devised a way to hide her tracks and stay under the radar after she'd robbed me of my trust. But why take the money if she wasn’t going to spend it?
Maybe she had loved Daniel in her own perverted way. Maybe she'd kept the money hidden away in case their relationship hadn’t worked out. It sounded as if her losing the baby had been the driving factor in her leaving Daniel and then taking my baby. But how could she have known where I was or even that I was pregnant? There was much more to be uncovered.
“Daniel, is there anything else that you can tell me? Did she call you at all after she left? Did she give you any indication that she was planning to leave?”
“My parents came up for the private burial of the baby. They hated Maggie for corrupting their only son as they liked to put it, but they were civil to her that day. They picked up the tab for the burial. We named him even though he was stillborn. Maggie said that everyone deserved to have a name they could be proud to carry, dead or alive. She named him Daniel Renaud and I insisted he carry my last name, Henderson.”
“Daniel Renaud Henderson,” I repeated out loud. “Where did she come up with the middle name, do you know?”
“She said it was her name. I don’t know, maybe it was her maiden name. She did say that she'd been married briefly. It was supposedly her husband who had forced her to get an abortion.”
Except that, according to what Trey’s investigator had learned, Maggie had never been married. Of course, he would've been searching through court and vital statistics records under the name of “Preston,” and not “Renaud.” This might prove to be an important piece of information.
“Where did she get the name Preston?” I questioned him.
“How the hell should I know, Tylar? Most of everything she ever told me was a fucking lie! I only accidently found out that she wasn’t your mom. That slipped out after she delivered our stillborn baby. She was ranting and raving, blaming herself for not going to the hospital.”
“Why was she so against going to the hospital?” I asked.
“She said she needed to stay underneath the radar on account of you were harassing her about her involvement with me and that you had threatened her in some way. I pointed out that you were still her daughter and she needed to make things right. That’s when she slipped and told me. She didn’t provide any more details other than what I've told you, I swear.”
“Daniel, you said she took your vehicle. May I ask what type of vehicle she took?”
“It’s a 2010 white Ford Bronco. It was a present from my parents. It’s still registered in my name. I’ll write down the license plate number for you. She may have switched plates, though. I’ll get the VIN for you too. She transferred her Jeep into my name. She wanted nothing in her name. She said she simply needed to disappear, so that we could be together without complications.”
“Why haven’t you reported your vehicle stolen?”
“Shit, Tylar, I’m not looking for revenge. I loved her once, you know?”
“Did you buy this farm?” I asked.
“Yeah, I put $15,000 of my college grant money on it. Maggie said we could plant corn, beans and wheat to sell at market; raise chickens and sheep and make our living off of the land. Right, the place is in foreclosure.”
“What about a cell phone, Daniel? Doesn’t she even have a cell phone?”
“She used those track phones, the disposable ones that you can change the number every time you buy a new one. She used mine for a while, but she racked my fucking bill up so high, I put a stop to that.”
“Who was she calling?”
“I don’t know. A bunch of calls to Mississippi, from what I remember. She claimed it was a business partner. Then some calls from Virginia. Those were incoming; fucking collect calls from a goddamn prison!"
He shook his head, a look of pure disgust on his face. “Here I am working nights at the factory and she's accepting those fucking calls; probably having some hot and heavy phone sex with a fucking inmate. She's a freak, a fucking freak that’s all I can say.”
Just then, we heard someone pounding on the back door of Daniel’s house. “Christ! What now?” he snapped.
He left the kitchen to go and answer the door. I glanced around the kitchen and peered into the living room to see if I could recognize any clues to show that my mother had been here recently. I saw nothing.
Suddenly, I heard a commotion coming from the back door. The voice was unmistakable.
“I believe you have something of mine, Mr. Henderson?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Trey Sinclair. I believe you have my wife inside.”
Chapter 12
Trey was livid, but managed to contain his anger until we were safely out of Daniel’s hovel. I saw Tristan standing outside of what I presumed was Trey’s rental car. He opened the passenger side of my rental car and told me to get in. I watched in the side mirror as Trey went over and spoke to Tristan briefly, then returned to my car getting in on the driver’s side.
“Give me the keys,” he ordered, none too politely. I handed the keys to him, trying to make eye contact, but having no luck. As we headed down the rural road towards Indianapolis, I finally found the nerve to speak.
“Trey, I know you're angry with me for coming up here, but I did manage to find some potentially useful information. I know for sure now that my mom, Maggie, has Preston.”
“Tylar,” he spoke softly but his voice was like steel, “do you remember the promises that we made to each other on our wedding day?”
“Of course I do; but if you’ll---”
“I promised that I'd protect you and keep you safe,” he interrupted. “You promised you'd be with me during times of joy and times of sorrow. This is a time of sorrow for both of us. Until we find our baby and she's safely back home with us, I don’t want you out of my sight.”
I looked over at Trey; I saw a tear roll down his cheek and then another. I reached my hand up to his cheek capturing it with my thumb. I couldn’t take it if he fell apart on me right now. I hadn't allowed myself to cry for my baby. The thought that this would have anything other than a positive outcome was simply unfathomable to me.
“Hey” I whispered hoarsely, “Please don’t think that I'd ever do anything to make you feel like this. I just wanted to help. I wanted to get the ball rolling and not wade through all of the bureaucratic red tape to get started in this search for Preston. I didn’t want to waste precious time while the authorities tried to figure out whether we were the perps in all of this.”
“I know, baby, that sickened me as well, but as an officer of the court, I know that they're just doing their job, no matter how cruel it seems to us. When Gina told me where you went late last night, I was scared, Tylar.”
“Why didn’t you call my cell?”
“I tried. Your cell is shut off.”
I rifled through my purse until I located my cell phone. The battery had died. “I’m sorry; it was nothing I was trying to keep from you. I told Gina to let you know when you came by today. Obviously, you found out sooner.”
“Why would you put yourself in that kind of danger? You know damn well your mother had plotted to kill you at one point, for Chrissake. So, you don’t care what that does to me?”
“Trey, I said that I was sorry and I am, but I don’t regret going because I found out some valuable information.”
I filled Trey in on the main points of my conversation with Daniel; my mother was really my aunt; my birth mother was her sister and died before I was a year old. I told him the car Maggie took was Daniel’s white Ford Explorer, and that he'd provided the license and VIN numbers. I told him she'd received collect calls from a prison in Virginia, she'd made multiple calls to Mississippi, and there was a good chance she'd hoarded the money she got from my trust and was potentially using it now to stay beneath the radar. I let him know that her maiden name was possibly "Renaud."
“Did you say Renaud?”
I finally had Trey’s attention. “Yes, why? It’s not a common name. Have you heard it before?”
“Yes. That’s the last name of the agent for TJ Properties, the L.L.C. in Mississippi that held the deed to your house in Radcliff until you turned twenty-one, remember?”
“Yes, but I thought you said you didn’t have any luck in finding out the identity of the Trustor when you went to Jackson last year.”
“I didn’t think that I had. All I had was the post office box number of the L.L.C.; the phone number listed on the UCC filing was no longer a working number. I literally hung out at the post office for damn near a full day until someone came to collect the mail from it. It was a man named ‘Renaud.’ I think his first name was Matthew. I explained I represented you in a matter involving your trust. It was then that he informed me that the property in Radcliff was to be deeded to you upon your twenty-first birthday. He didn’t offer much more information, nor was he required to do so. As I explained before, L.L.C.’s are not required to disclose.”
“Do you remember what he looked like?”
“He didn’t stand out one way or another. He was probably late forties, why?”
“He might be my father,” I replied.
“I thought you said that Daniel said the name Renaud could have been Maggie’s maiden name?”
“Yes, but he also said nearly everything that came out of her mouth was a lie. God, I don’t know what to think! She wove such an intricate web of lies and deceit for all of these years; yet there's always a grain of truth hidden somewhere. It’s just picking it out that's so fucking complicated.”
“I know, sweetie, but I do think the name is significant. Once we're home, I’ll get the investigator working on it, okay?”
“How’s your mom?” I asked, suddenly ashamed that I'd caused Trey to leave her because he'd been compelled to make sure that I was safe.
“Physically, she'll be fine. Emotionally, she’s a wreck. She's blaming herself for all of it. My father flew down and he'll fly back with her this morning. Tristan will be staying with us for a couple of days and then will fly to Bristol to stay with Mom after dad’s surgery.”
“Why's Tristan staying with us?”
“Because I have to go back to the firm to get my case load divided up so that I can focus on getting Preston back. I don’t want you left alone. Tristan will see to it that you're kept safe when I can’t be with you.”
I found it comforting to know that I wouldn’t be left in our apartment alone. I hadn’t been back there since the last morning that I'd held and nursed my baby girl. She'd looked so cute with her little ‘Pebbles Flintstone’ hair-style. Tears brimmed in my eyes. I hadn’t allowed myself to cry yet. I was afraid that, if I allowed myself to cry, then it was an admission that she might never be back with us. I couldn’t bear the thought of that; I couldn’t imagine wanting my life to go on without her in it. My sobs escaped in a flood of tears. Trey pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned it off. He unfastened my seat belt and pulled me over into his arms. I let it all out, not caring how loud or hard I cried. He held me in his arms, stroking my hair.
“I want my baby back!” I wailed it over and over again. “Trey, I need her back with me.”
“I know baby. I know,” he choked, unable to contain his tears. “We'll get her back, I promise you that. The FBI has our phone tapped; they're checking the surveillance videos from the lobby and parking garage. The Georgia State Police have issued Levi’s Call. We'll have our Chubbers back soon, baby, I promise.”
The tears and the emotion had caused a letdown in my breasts. They were so full of milk they hurt. Damn, why hadn’t I thought to bring my breast pump? I had to keep my milk flowing or I would dry up. I wasn't about to let Maggie be the last one to nurse my baby.
“Trey, do we have time before our flight back to stop somewhere and buy a breast pump? I need to keep pumping until Preston is back.”
“Sure sweetie,” he said, kissing my lips gently.
Our apartment seemed empty and desolate upon our return. Trey had obviously been back there since the incident to get his mom’s stuff packed up. She and Clive had already flown out by the time we got in. They were to call Trey later this evening. Tristan would stay in the bed in the nursery where Susan had slept. I couldn’t bring myself to go into that room. Trey had kept the door shut since we'd arrived back home.
I immediately went to our suite to take a shower. I felt exhausted and drained. I emerged from the bathroom in my warm terrycloth robe, with a towel wrapped around my damp hair. I climbed up on our bed with my breast pump and empty bottles. I was able to fill two of them.
Trey came in just after I'd finished pumping. “Do you want me to put these in the refrigerator?” he asked.
“Yes please, but make sure you put one of those stickers I have out there in the kitchen with the day of the week printed on it, okay?"
“Sure, baby,” he said, taking his leave.
I removed the towel from my hair and combed through the damp locks. My eyes drifted to her white bassinet that was still in our room. She'd nearly outgrown it, but I still had occasionally put her in it for naps before I'd started back to work at the firm.
The firm.
I hadn't given the firm a single thought since all of this had happened, but right now something popped up in my mind. There was something I recalled coming up in the next few weeks in front of a panel of judges. T
hat’s right—it was with a federal judge who had a name like mine only backwards. Judge Preston James Tylar. It was scheduled in a court in Baton Rouge, as I remembered.
I got up from the bed to find Trey. I'd meant to mention this to him before all of this happened. I walked down the hallway and saw that the light was on in his study.
I quietly approached the door expecting him to have his cell phone up to his ear while typing on his laptop, but his chair was turned so that his back was to me. He was leaning back staring over at the corner of the room. It was Preston’s empty swing. One of her little rubber squeeze toys was in the tray by the seat. I watched as Trey leaned forward and picked up the little pink rubber clothespin that had a face on it. He squeezed it a couple of times making it squeak the way she did when she chewed on it.
I saw his shoulders shake with sadness. He lowered his head into his hands, covering his face and sobbed. He was in just as much pain as I was right now. What had made me think that my pain was any worse than his? I hurried over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me with his beautiful sapphire eyes reflecting his pain and his sadness.
“God, Tylar,” he choked, “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
I knelt down in front of him, taking his hands in mine, totally confused as to why my husband felt that he needed to ask for my forgiveness.
“Trey, I don’t understand. What have you done that would make you think you need my forgiveness?”
“I didn’t listen to you when you were having those dreams. They were premonitions, weren’t they? I fucking insisted you go back to the office, even when it meant having to hire someone to come in to our home and take care of the baby! Look what I’ve caused! Because of me, my mother's been injured and my daughter's gone…abducted.”
“Trey, you were worried about me. You did what you thought was in my best interest. Remember you telling me that you wanted to know that I could survive in a world where peace of mind and security weren’t guaranteed without withdrawing or freaking out? You wanted me to be a strong person, not a paranoid person.”
Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2) Page 10