by S. M. Koz
“I don’t have a home,” she answers, as if reading my mind.
“Where are you staying?”
“It’s a group home, but it’s not a home. More like a super strict dormitory.”
“I’ll take you back there.”
She nods, but the disappointment is apparent in her gloomy eyes and slumped shoulders. She wants to go home with me. I want to take her home with me, but I have to get my parents on board first. Which means I have to get Michelle to come clean in front of them.
I pull her in for another hug and kiss the top of her head. “I’ll make everything right. I promise.”
She nods again, straightens her shoulders, and opens the car door to talk to Sherry. She’s back to fighter mode. A few moments later, Sherry drives away and I walk Hailey inside the prison, so she can talk to Chase. The complete asshole who I’d prefer she never saw again.
Chapter 37
HAILEY
“Babe,” he says, laying his hand on the glass like he wants to connect with me. As if I’d want anything to do with him right now. How could he possibly think I’d be anything but furious with him?
“How’d you get in?” I ask.
“I’ve got my ways,” he says, sitting back and struggling with the phone between his shoulder and ear. He reaches up with his cuffed hands and adjusts it.
“Who helped you?”
“Nobody.”
“You got through their security system. Someone helped you.”
“Nah. I’m innocent.”
“Who initiated contact? You or Michelle?”
When I say her name, there’s a momentary shift in his cocky exterior. His neck muscles tense, he blinks twice, and stares at me like a deer caught in headlights. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it fades.
“Who’s Michelle?” he asks, examining his filthy fingers.
“You know who she is.”
He shakes his head and starts digging the dirt out from under his nails. “Ain’t never heard that name before.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. We’re not going to get any proof from him. We need to come up with another plan. How can we get evidence that Michelle and Chase have been talking? Who would know that? Abbie? Doubtful. She’s too close to Brad; she’d have said something already. One of Chase’s friends? They won’t tell me anything. Nobody in the trailer park will tell me anything. They all figure it’s best to mind your own business, which means they would’ve looked the other way the moment a beautiful, rich, blond girl drove up in her luxury car. Well … everyone except for one. I smile as I realize I may not need Chase for this after all.
I’m about to lower the phone when I realize I haven’t even talked to him about the main reason I came here. I do need his help on this. “Where’s the Monet?” I ask.
“What’s Monet?”
“The large, blurry painting of a garden.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear, but I’m innocent,” he says, lowering his hands to his lap. “I don’t know nothing about any paintings.”
“They need that back. It’s not worth anything,” I lie, lowering my eyes and looking at the grimy tabletop. “You’ll get nothing for it, but it has sentimental value to them. Please give it back to them.”
“I already told you—I don’t know nothing about any paintings.”
I huff and shake my head. He’s going to make this impossible. All I want is for the Campbells to get that painting back. Even though I’m not responsible, I did unwillingly bring Chase into their lives. I have to make this better if I can. I have to do everything in my power to help them.
“What do you want?” I ask, although I already know the answer. If he doesn’t need money now, there’s only one other thing he’d want.
“From you?”
I nod.
“You’re mine.”
Exactly what I thought. He can’t handle me being with Brad. “Fine.”
“For as long as I say.”
“Fine,” I lie again. As soon as I get the Monet back, I’m so done with him.
He nods and starts picking his teeth with his still dirty nails. “I get out on bail soon. Where can I find you?”
“A group home in Sanford.”
“What’s the name?”
I give it to him and then stand. “They get it back immediately if I do this.”
He nods and then I hang up the phone and leave without another word.
Chapter 38
BRAD
“Well, what’d you find out?” I ask as soon as Hailey’s back in the waiting room.
“Nothing. He claims he’s innocent.”
“Of course,” I say, standing to join her. We walk toward the door. “I’ll force it out of Michelle.”
“There may be another way.” She steps around a child playing on the floor, smiling down at him when he looks up. “Nosy old Garrison watches everything in the trailer park like a hawk. He might have seen something.”
“Well, let’s go, then,” I reply, holding the door open for her.
Five minutes later, we pull up to the most godforsaken place I’ve ever seen. Six crumbling trailers line what’s supposed to be a parking lot, but it looks more like a garbage pit.
“That one,” she says, pointing to the nicest trailer of the bunch, but it’s a far cry from nice. Weeds climb to the windows, part of the roof droops to the ground, and the curtains hanging from the windows are torn to shreds. One of them has a little bald man’s head peeking through the shreds.
“You lived in one of these?” I ask, suddenly wishing I had disinfectant. Just walking around here makes me want to pour a gallon of bleach over my head.
“Yeah. That one.” She points to one of the worst.
“I had no idea it was this bad. I’m so sorry.”
“No pity.”
I blow out a long breath. “I know.” It’s impossible not to pity her, though. This is beyond bad. This is approaching third-world country bad. How did DSS let her stay here for so long? She should’ve been removed a decade ago.
We near Garrison’s trailer and the bald head bobs down below the windowsill. Hailey pounds on the door. Two minutes later, it opens and the frail, frowning man hobbles outside to join us.
“What do you want?” he yells, lifting his cane and practically stabbing Hailey in the stomach with it.
“Have you seen a pretty blond girl talking to Chase?”
He eyes me suspiciously, then turns back to her. “What’s it worth to you?”
“You know I don’t have anything to give you. Can you just tell us this out of the kindness of your heart?”
“There’s no kindness in my heart. You kids run ‘round here with your drugs and your sex and your wrongdoing, ruining this place.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I could help clean up around your home. Pull some weeds. Pick up some trash.”
Oh, hell no. She is never coming back here again. Ever. I open my wallet and pull out a twenty. Then I wake my phone and find a picture of Michelle. “Has she been around here?” I ask, showing him the picture.
Garrison snags the bill and barely glances at my phone. “Yeah. A few times a couple weeks ago.”
“Did she talk to Chase?” Hailey asks.
“Went into his trailer. I dunno if they was talking,” he replies with a shrug.
“Thanks,” I say, and escort Hailey out of there for the last time. I suddenly have an even greater appreciation for her. How in the world did she live like this for seventeen years of her life and turn out to be such a kind, gentle person?
*****
“Where have you been?” Mom asks as soon as I return home. She’s in a red cocktail dress and holding a plate of hors d'oeuvres. I’m late for her party. I didn’t realize it would take me over an hour to drop Hailey off at her group home and then get back here.
“Sorry, I ran into Hailey.”
Her eyes widen slightly and she steps toward the corner, away from the guests and the Christmas music pouring in from the other room. “Wh
ere?” she whispers.
“Jail. She was coming in as I was leaving.”
“What did she have to say?”
“We figured out who got Chase in here.”
She lowers the plate and her eyes grow even wider. “Who?”
“It’s just dreadful what happened,” Michelle’s mom, Dawn, says, walking into the kitchen with Dad. She lowers a bottle of wine to the counter then comes over and hugs Mom. “I’m glad they caught him. Did they find all your valuables?”
“No, not all,” Mom replies.
“I warned you about foster care, didn’t I?” Dawn says, “When you open up your home to people like that, you open up your home to crime. I’m just thankful you came to your senses.”
“People like what?” I ask, my hackles rising.
“Damaged,” she says matter-of-factly.
“With all due respect,” Dad says, stepping next to me, “Hailey is a very fine young lady.”
“She brought criminal activity into our neighborhood.”
“Actually,” I say, ready to set the record straight, “it wasn’t Hailey.”
“What?” Dad asks, his head snapping in my direction.
“I need to talk to you and Mom for a second.”
He excuses us from our guests and we gather in the library.
“What’s going on?” he asks, closing the door.
“Michelle did it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mom says, laughing. “That’s impossible.”
“Why is it impossible?”
“We’ve known her and her mom for years. She would never hurt us.”
“Well, she did,” I say, leaning against a wingback chair.
“You’re sure?” Dad asks.
“One-hundred percent. She stole Hailey’s key and deliberately watched her enter the security code so she could take it to Chase. She’s the one who wrote the note.”
“No,” Mom says again, gripping her chest and lowering herself to the loveseat.
“I’ll be right back,” Dad says before darting out the door.
When he leaves, Mom covers her mouth with a shaky hand. She suddenly looks pale and tired. It’s all been too much for her.
Not even a minute later, he returns with Michelle and Dawn.
“Thanks for joining us,” he says. “Please, sit down.”
Dawn lowers herself next to Mom, Dad takes the ottoman, and I take a chair. There’s another chair available, but Michelle sits on the arm of mine.
“Do you have concerns about the baby?” Dawn asks, her brows drawn in confusion.
“No, we have concerns about the robbery,” Dad says.
She looks between him, me, and Mom, then says, “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Brad?”
I can’t talk to Michelle with her sitting practically on top of me, so I move to the other chair. When I’m seated again, I look directly at her and say, “I know what you did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know your role and how you helped Chase get in here.”
“What?!” Dawn yells, standing up. “I can assure you Michelle was not involved!”
Dad holds up his hands. “Let’s calm down and see what Michelle has to say.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Her eyes are down, but I can see tears already forming in the corners.
“I have proof,” I lie, pulling out my phone. “You didn’t think about Garrison, the old guy at the trailer park, when you went to visit Chase. I have pictures.”
Her bottom lip starts quivering.
“Michelle?” Dawn whispers.
“I just want to know why,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. She actually did it. Even though Garrison confirmed our suspicions, I guess part of me thought maybe this was all a big misunderstanding. How could she do this to us? “We’re friends. You and Hailey were getting along great. Things were going well. What did you possibly have to gain by doing this?”
“Things were not going well,” she sniffs, wiping tears that have started falling.
“Of course they were.”
“You were getting serious about her.”
“And you told her that was okay. You wanted to be friends with her.” Is this all a result of her jealousy? She’d seriously do something this horrible to try and tear me and Hailey apart? Based on all the evidence, I think the answer is a resounding yes. She’s literally crazy. “It was all a ploy to get her to trust you, wasn’t it? Then you could steal her key and security code.”
“Michelle,” Dawn says again.
“We were supposed to be together!” she yells, glaring at me. “If I got Hailey out of here, we could get back together!”
“We were never together!” I yell. How many times do we have to relive the same argument? How can she not see reality?
“We were on the way!”
“No, we weren’t!” I shout, standing up. “It was never going to happen! Ever! Why can’t you get that through your head?” I’m done playing nice. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve been supportive for months and this is how she repays me? Letting a thug into our home and costing us millions? Not to mention potentially ruining Hailey’s life. All because she was jealous of her?
She sniffs and her shoulders shake only moments before the waterworks really start up. It’s like the other day on my patio. She whimpers and then says, “If she hadn’t been here when we found out I was pregnant, you would’ve come around.”
Her crying act does nothing to diminish my anger. “No, it wouldn’t have! You’re delusional!”
“Michelle, how could you do this to us?” Mom asks in a much calmer tone, her forehead wrinkling and her eyes glistening. “We lost millions of dollars. My Monet. You know how much that means to me.”
“I—I—He was only going to take some electronics,” she whispers as the tears flow down her cheeks and onto her dress. She can’t even look at my mom, instead focusing on a bracelet around her wrist. She toys with it and adds, “A couple TVs, maybe a computer. He promised.”
“Michelle,” Dawn says, standing. “Don’t say anything else. We need to go right now.”
She clutches her by the arm and tugs her through the room.
“Did you get pregnant on purpose?!” I yell as they rush through the door.
I follow her through and find all our guests staring. I don’t know how much they heard, but they certainly got the last part.
“Cheers,” I announce, grabbing a flute of champagne from a nearby table and holding it above my head.
“Cheers, dude,” Adam replies from across the silent room. I can always count on him to not let me down.
*****
“Well, that was one of the best parties yet,” I say with a grin, lowering myself onto the couch. After the big Michelle scene, our guests started politely calling it a night. We now have enough food for two weeks since dinner wasn’t even served before the last person left.
“You certainly have impeccable timing,” Dad replies with a wink. “You maybe could have waited until afterwards, so Mom could enjoy her party.”
She waves off his comment. “I wasn’t going to enjoy it anyway. It’s been a stressful few days.” She lowers herself next to Dad, who kisses her forehead and wraps his arm around her waist. She leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes.
“So, I’ll pick Hailey up tomorrow morning,” I say. “She’ll be back in time to enjoy Christmas with us.” I decided earlier I’d just mention it like it’s a done deal, rather than ask. If she wasn’t involved in the burglary, they have no reason to keep her away.
“Not so fast,” Dad says.
“What?” I ask, groaning. “She clearly wasn’t involved. We can’t hold Michelle’s actions against her.”
“I’m not holding Michelle’s actions against her.”
I sit up, my elbows on my knees. “You can’t blame her for Chase.”
“I’m not blaming her for Chase.”
“Then what’s the problem?” I ask
, holding my hands palms up.
“We have to clear it with Sherry. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to get in touch with her over the holiday.”
“Oh,” I say with a smile. I knew I could count on my parents.
“Let me see what I can do,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Three hours later, it’s all set. Dad called the on-call social worker who got in touch with Sherry. She agreed it’d be in Hailey’s best interest to return to us, rather than stay in the group home. I get to pick her up tomorrow morning.
I hardly sleep that night. It reminds me of the Christmas Eves when I was little and couldn’t sleep out of excitement to see what Santa brought. None of those gifts compare to this, though. Getting Hailey back is going to be, by far, my best Christmas present ever.
I end up arriving at the group home around six-thirty in the morning. All the windows are dark and I question my decision. Sherry never told me how early I could come, but Hailey is probably not even awake yet.
I go to the front door and as expected, it’s locked. I try knocking, but no one answers, so I lower myself to the curb and wait.
At precisely seven-thirty, a woman pulls up in an older sedan. She gets out of the car and approaches the front door. “Can I help you?” she asks.
“I’m here to pick up Hailey Brown and take her to her foster home.”
“Bradley Campbell?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She unlocks the door and motions for me to enter.
“We weren’t expecting you until later in the morning.”
“Sorry, we were excited to get her home for Christmas and all.”
“That’s right. Merry Christmas,” she says, removing her jacket.
“You, too.”
She lays her coat on a hook, then starts up a computer at the front desk.
“You here, Ellen?” someone asks, approaching us from a dark hallway.
“Yes, Mark. How was last night?”
“Quiet and easy.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Can you let Hailey know that Bradley is here?”
“Sure.”
He turns around and heads back down the hallway, while the woman turns on a mini-coffee pot on the desk. “May I see some ID, please?” she asks.