Sloane Monroe 06-Hush Now Baby

by Bradshaw, Cheryl

  I flipped the first page of the journal open, read the date. 1957. Before he joined the FBI. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was. Beneath the entry was a name. Celia Wilcox. Whoever she was, she’d been missing. Two weeks and they hadn’t found her. The last time she was seen she had been with her boyfriend, Clifford Sweeney. After interviewing him, checking his alibi, my grandfather believed he was innocent. I was in the middle of turning the next page when my phone rang. Again. And again it was Renee.

  “She texted me,” Renee said.

  “Hannah?”

  “Yes. Only, the text came from Ann’s phone, not Hannah’s.”

  Strange.

  “What did the text say?”

  “It’s Hannah. Help me.”

  “Did you respond? Did you call her?”

  “Of course, I did. I’ve called ten times in the last five minutes. She’s not answering. I’m leaving. I’m going to her house. I don’t care what Aaron thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks. She’s my niece.”

  I thought about cautioning her to wait until we could verify what was going on first. It wouldn’t have mattered. I closed my grandfather’s journal, slipped it back inside my bag, and said, “Wait. I’m coming with you.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Cade still hadn’t returned when Renee arrived to get me. It seemed odd he’d stay at the hospital so long, but then, everything seemed odd lately, off course, like a misguided ship on a blackened night. I thought about calling him. I wanted to call him, if for nothing more than to soothe my curious nerves, my insecurities about the odds that he’d seen Wendy in a different light. She’d survived an almost successful attempt on her life. It was enough to melt the most jaded, unforgiving heart. Was it enough to melt his? If he had softened toward her, I’d detect it in his voice, and I couldn’t bear it. Not now.

  I grabbed a pen that had been erroneously placed inside a basket of nearly-spoiled apples and rifled through one drawer, then another, looking for anything suitable to write on. I settled for the back of an unopened bill.

  Gone with Renee to check on Hannah.

  Explain more later.

  Be back soon.

  Don’t wait up.

  -Sloane

  Ever since Wendy dropped back into Cade’s life, I’d felt something more for him, feelings maybe. At first I chalked it up to my insatiable need to play the role of protector. Now I wasn’t sure I’d properly diagnosed my feelings. Was it possible I’d mistaken feelings of love with feelings of jealousy?

  …

  The drive from Jackson Hole to Hannah’s parents’ house in Idaho Falls was almost two hours each way. Renee was too preoccupied with thoughts of why Hannah had sent the text to engage in any kind of meaningful conversation. This was fine by me. It gave me time to process, time to wonder about things like whether Hannah herself had sent the message for help from her mother’s phone because Aaron had taken her phone away, or if her mother had sent it on Hannah’s behalf. Most people wouldn’t even question it. They’d just accept what was presented to them as fact. People were predictable that way, always focusing on one side of a coin instead of flipping it over, factoring in all the possibilities. Life was easier seeing things for what they appeared to be, instead of pushing past the smoke to get to the mirror, the truth.

  It reminded me of a Christmas card. The kind with the boisterous, beaming family on the front, and a yearly “what we’ve been up to” letter on the inside. At first glance, the family really seemed perfect. So perfect, in fact, the recipients of the card might even find themselves dwelling on their own bundle of shortcomings just looking at the photo of the family and the excellent smiles plastered on all of their faces. If only they looked behind the flashy grins, the accolades of praise and unrealistic perfection, they’d see the cracks. Or maybe they didn’t look, and instead, accepted a life blinded by reality. Next year, when that same family seemed to be falling apart, they would say they never saw it coming. They probably didn’t. Their eyes weren’t open.

  Mine were.

  The way I saw it, Ann could have sent the text just as easily as Hannah could have. She seemed like the type of person who would go to extreme measures in order to avoid any blame berthing on her own shoulders. I imagined a time long before Aaron came around, a time when Ann was her own person, confident and unwavering. Through the years I assumed Aaron had picked her apart, day by day, whittling Ann’s armor down to nothing. He’d destroyed the woman she used to be and created a new one, one suited just for him, a Stepford wife.

  Marriage wasn’t supposed to be that way. It was meant to bond two people together, not break them apart. In my experience, relationships didn’t just break apart, they shattered. I wanted to believe in marriage, the fairy tale, the knight in shining armor trotting into my life a top a glorious, white horse. The truth was, I no longer believed in marriage, and I hadn’t for a long time.

  I thought about Aaron, and a far more sinister scheme came to mind: What if he had sent the message to Renee in a devious effort to lure her to the one place he maintained control? Hashing things out in the privacy of his home would shield him from his harshest critic, the public eye, keeping him and his fits of rage safe. As unnerving as it was, I actually preferred this theory to the others. Because if Aaron hadn’t sent the text, odds were Hannah was in grave danger.

  Thirty minutes outside of Idaho Falls, my phone lit up. Cade.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Did you get my note?”

  “Yeah. Why didn’t you call me? I would have gone with you.”

  “I didn’t know how long you were going to be with Wendy. I didn’t feel right bothering you.”

  “You’re not a bother, Sloane, and you never could be.”

  “I thought maybe the two of you needed time to talk things out.”

  “Now hold on. Are you sayin’ you didn’t get my text message?”

  I hadn’t, although I wasn’t surprised. “My service has been weird up here. I don’t think I’m getting my messages. Not all of them, anyway. What did it say?”

  “I only spent about fifteen minutes with Wendy. Spent the rest of the time over at my aunt’s house with Jack.”

  I couldn’t deny it—I was relieved. “How is he?”

  “About the same,” Cade said. “Had a chance to talk to him one on one for a bit. I told him I’d seen Hooker, and he asked if I knew.”

  “About Serena’s pregnancy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So he was aware she was pregnant.”

  “Guess they were plannin’ on makin’ a big deal about it. Had an idea cooked up about gettin’ everyone together, havin’ Finn wear a shirt sayin’ he was gonna be a big brother.”

  My stomach lurched just hearing about their plans. In less than a week, Jack had lost his wife, his son, his unborn child. Everything, taken in an instant.

  “He asked me not to tell anyone about the baby for now,” Cade continued. “Said the only one they’d mentioned it to was Grace.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there … with you … with him.”

  “Don’t be. You gonna tell me what you’re doin’ though?”

  Realizing he might think I was crazy for chasing after something I hoped would lead to nothing more than a misinterpretation, I filled him in.

  “I need to know she’s all right,” I said when I finished. “For my own peace of mind. Maybe it’s selfish, but I won’t feel—”

  “I understand.”

  He understood.

  No explanation needed.

  “Do what you need to do,” he said. “I’m here if you need me. Until then, I think I’ll stay up for a while.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  It was his way of saying he was staying up regardless of anything I said to try to sway him. I saw no reason to fight it. I respected his strong, stubborn attitude. I identified with it as well. Too well.

&nbs
p; We said our goodbyes as Renee turned down Hannah’s street. Street lamps paved the way to an otherwise dark, two-story house. I glanced at the time. Just past midnight. The soft night air offered an illusion that all was calm, quiet. It seemed to say there was nothing to see here, nothing to fear. I hoped it was true.

  We parked along the curb in front of a mature oak tree. Renee unbuckled her seatbelt, curled her fingers around the door latch. I yanked on her arm, stopping her.

  “What?” she asked. “I’ve been waiting over two hours for this moment. We need to get in there. Now.”

  “Let’s be smart about it. We have no idea how Aaron will react when he sees you here. Part of me thinks Aaron set all of this up on purpose.”

  “You think he texted me?”

  “It’s possible. Maybe he wanted to get you alone.”

  “No. Hannah sent it. I feel it in my gut.”

  It didn’t matter what I said. She’d never see past the smoke.

  “If he refuses to allow you to see Hannah,” I said, “we will have come all this way for nothing.”

  She sighed. “All right, fine. I’ll do it your way. I’ll try to, at least. What do you suggest?”

  “Where’s Hannah’s room?”

  Renee pointed to a window on the far right side of the house. “Hannah’s on the main level. Aaron and Ann’s room is upstairs on the opposite end.”

  We’d caught our first lucky break. Hopefully we could turn one into two.

  “I’m going to get out first and make my way to Hannah’s room,” I said. “Wait until I’m there. I’ll signal you. That’s your cue to go to the front door. We both know Aaron will answer. When he does, I don’t want you to blow up. You must remain calm.”

  “I can’t promise—”

  “Do you want to make sure Hannah’s all right or not?”

  She nodded.

  “Then we need to be smart,” I said. “I’m counting on you to buy me some time. Give me the chance to get into Hannah’s room without him thinking anything is amiss. Pace yourself, don’t rush. I’ll need as much time as you can get me.”

  “I don’t know how to keep him there. What am I supposed to say?”

  “Play to his larger-than-life self-admiration. Tell him you drove here because you want to make things right. Apologize if you have to for everything that’s happened. Tell him you know you made a mistake. Promise you’ll never do it again. Make him feel like all of his opinions are right, and you’re the one that’s wrong.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  I was starting to doubt her capabilities. “You’re missing the point, Renee. There’s a time to be honest, and there’s a time to lie. Stroke his ego. It seems to be the only thing he responds to, so just this once, use it to your advantage. Whatever happens, you need to sell it. He must believe you. Can you do it?”

  “I think so.”

  “I don’t need you to think,” I said. “I need you to know. Just be careful, okay?”

  “How will I know when to stop?”

  “When you see me, you can drop the charade. By then we’ll have the answers we need. Got it?”

  She pressed her hands to her jeans like she was preparing for the biggest role of her life. I just hoped she could pull it off. Either way, we were about to find out.

  CHAPTER 26

  With the gentlest of movements, I eased the car door open, exited the car, and crouched down, watching, waiting to see if any lights illuminated upstairs. Thirty seconds later, there was no change. I crossed the lawn, my focus shifting to Renee. Her face was stony, frenetic. Ready for a fight. Faking her anger wouldn’t be easy, and I was teetering on the fence of whether she’d be successful or not.

  I reached the edge of the house, stood in front of Hannah’s window, turned back, gave Renee the green light. She exited the car, closing the door like she would on any other day, not realizing the reverberation alone was enough to rouse the street from its restful slumber.

  I reached Hannah’s darkened room, assessed her window. It was garden-variety, no frills, with a slide-release latch. I pressed both hands against the glass and attempted to lift up. It was locked.

  Renee approached the front steps of the house. She paused briefly, ingesting a deep breath before climbing a series of stairs, removing her from my line of sight. I cupped my hands on both sides of my face and peered through Hannah’s window.

  A dull, almost burned-out nightlight plugged into an outlet next to the bed did nothing to enhance my vision. I slid a hand inside my pocket, pulled out a set of keys dangling from a small flashlight key chain. I clicked the flashlight on, beaming circular light through the window. I hoped Hannah wouldn’t see the glow from my light and feel compelled to scream.

  Hannah’s bed was unmade and empty, with one exception—a pillow-sized stuffed bunny or bear was positioned haphazardly on its side. A polka-dot comforter was crumpled into a pile in the middle, like Hannah had gone to bed earlier, then got back up again. I considered the various options. Maybe she was in the bathroom or grabbing a late-night snack. Or maybe, if she’d sent the message to Renee, she’d heard us drive up and started for the front door.

  The sound of Aaron’s dictatorial voice filled the air with a blitz of one-sided attacks aimed at Renee. I couldn’t make out all the verbal garbage, but I understood a few. “You’ve got some nerve coming here.” And then, “You’ve no right—this isn’t your business.” The fragmented sentences fanned across the yard, piercing the silence. His nervous apprehension told me one thing: Aaron was genuinely shocked to see her there. He hadn’t sent the message.

  My plan to distract him had worked, so far. Now I needed to find Hannah. If the latch on her window hadn’t been locked, I would have assumed she snuck out at some point after her parents’ retired to bed for the evening. She’d contemplated running away before. It was plausible she’d built up enough pent-up range to go through with it this time.

  While I pondered my next plan of attack, which involved finding another window to crawl through, Aaron’s voice abruptly died out. Either Renee had been successful at calming her brother down, or he’d slammed the door in her face, denying entry. I arched my head just enough to see the porch had been deserted. She’d made it inside.

  I returned to an upright position, my flashlight catching a glimpse of something that, at first glance, appeared to be nothing more than an article of clothing on the floor next to the bed. On second glance, I saw something else—two feet sticking out from what I now believed to be a pair of flannel pajamas.

  I repositioned the flashlight, stuck my face against the glass, looked again.

  It couldn’t be.

  But it was.

  Hannah.

  I could see the bottom half of her body. Nothing else. The rest of her was concealed by the bed. A numbing sensation rushed through me, my mind filtering through various scenarios about why she’d collapsed to the floor, for a second time. I needed to get to her. Fast.

  The window to the right of Hannah’s room was locked and too small for my body to fit through even if it had been open. I was desperate and short on time. I tried the next one over, deciding if I failed again, I’d return to Hannah’s window, shattering the damn thing if it meant getting inside.

  The latch on the third window was bent just enough to render it closed, but not locked enough to keep me out. I removed the window screen and took a chance I could get it open. The window was jammed, unwilling to open at first. I braced one foot against the side of the house and pulled with everything I had. Success. The window rolled open. I clicked off the flashlight and climbed inside a vacant, spare bedroom that was set up for sewing, ironing, and laundry. I eased my way into the hall. Heard voices. Aaron was talking, in full lecture mode. Renee was crying. Impressive. I heard nothing from Ann, but then, I hadn’t ever heard anything from Ann.

  Keep up the charade, Renee. Just a little longer.

  I slinked inside Hannah’s room, closed the door, locked it. I flipped on the bedroom ligh
t, hoping with the door closed, I wouldn’t draw attention to myself. Hannah’s eyes were closed. If she had fainted again, she was out cold, her body stationary. While I knelt down, reached out to her, my eyes darted around the room, bouncing from one item to another, taking it all in at once. An empty prescription bottle on its side on Hannah’s nightstand, an ultrasound photo clutched in her hand, a phone on the dresser that wasn’t hers, a ripped piece of notebook paper on the floor, in between the bed and the nightstand.

  “No … no … no … Hannah, please,” I begged. “Please Hannah, can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  I wanted to slap her, anything to evoke a response. I positioned my cheek next to her mouth, stared down at her chest. Watched. Waited. Nothing. No breath. Hands trembling, I jabbed at the speaker button on my phone, somehow managing to quell my trembling hands long enough to call for help.

  I placed the heel of my hand on Hannah’s chest, rested the other hand on top, fingers interlocked. While I attempted to “stay calm” as the woman on the phone instructed, like it was truly possible in a screwed-up situation like this, I started chest compressions.

  My conversation with the woman on the other end of the line gave me away, like I knew it would. I no longer cared. Let Aaron come. Let them all come. And they did. A parade of footsteps scampered toward Hannah’s room, heavy and fast, on a mission. I couldn’t allow them to bother me. Hannah was all that mattered now.

  I pinched Hannah’s nose closed, secured my lips over her mouth, blew inside, wishing something, anything would make a difference, even though nothing did. The door handle jiggled.

  “Why in the hell is this locked?” Aaron yelled. “Hannah, open this door now!”

  When the order had not been carried out fast enough, Aaron became desperate. He tried unsuccessfully to pound his way inside. Expletives shot from his mouth as he raged on like a sore loser at a racetrack. The title of “loser” suited him. He was a loser. One of the finest specimens of loser I’d ever met.