by Tyora Moody
“Wesley Cade. I will be just fine. I just need to pray about it some more. Don’t worry about me. Okay. Look, if you get a chance, come by and see him on Sunday.”
Knowing he’d hit a nerve, Wes adjusted his tone before responding. “Sure, Mom.” He added, “I love you.”
“I love you too, son. Have a good night.”
Wes disconnected the call. He didn’t enjoy visiting with Pops these days. The man rarely remembered him. That hurt more than Wes wanted to admit.
He glanced over at the home he’d just left. What did Serena want from him, really?
Wes had heard that Serena’s vice was to get what she wanted using any tactic necessary. What bothered him more was Serena’s curiosity about Pops. If there was one thing he had in common with Serena, it was that they both loved investigating a good story. What reporter didn’t?
But there were some parts of his grandfather’s life that were a mystery even to Wes, and he wanted to protect Pops from Serena’s digging. For many years, Pops was a detective in the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Missing Persons Unit. Even as his memories were fading, Pops could remember some of the cases with a vividness at the oddest moments.
From what Wes remembered, when he was about nine years old, there was one particular case that seemed to change Pops. He drank more and grew further and further apart from both Wes and his mom. About six months ago, Wes found out from his mother that the case that had haunted Pops involved the missing daughter of an old friend, guitar legend Nick Roberts, with whom Pops had played for about ten years in a band. When Roberts died, Pops had been lucid enough to attend the funeral. Since the funeral Pops seemed more depressed, tumbling farther down the slippery slope of Alzheimer’s disease.
Why that particular case? Was it because the missing young woman hit so close to home? Wes, the grandson and investigative reporter, felt a strong need to help put his grandfather’s ailing mind at rest.
Chapter Three
Melanie Stowe woke to darkness. As she shook the sleep away, a stale, musty odor grabbed her nostrils. The room’s temperature was uncomfortably warm, and her clothes were soaked with her sweat. What alarmed her more was the mattress against her back. This wasn’t her bed. Where was she? In a panic she sat up. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, processing strange shapes around her. This couldn’t be happening. How did she get here?
She swung her legs off the bed to the floor, where she felt wood flooring beneath her bare feet. Melanie stood and then quickly sat back down as nausea swept over her. As her dizziness subsided, she thought back to last night.
She had not wanted to leave the house. But her best friend, Lisa Sloan, had wanted to go to the Paradise Club. She could see Lisa’s pouty face. “Mel, come on. We haven’t been out in ages.” As she always did with her longtime friend, she caved.
For most of the time at the club Melanie had stood staring at her so-called friends on the dance floor. Lisa, who danced like there was no tomorrow, did come to check on her a few times. As Melanie stood there, people kept coming up to her, wanting her autograph. She had smiled and signed, but inside she’d wanted to climb back in her bed. Ever since she was a contestant on American Voices, her life had never been the same. She had auditioned for the national talent show with the hopes of becoming the singer she had always dreamed of being since she was a little girl. With each failed record company offer, her quest for stardom had faded.
Clutching her stomach, Melanie bent her body forward and whimpered. She stopped when she thought she heard a sound. Melanie shouted, “Is anyone there? Hello. Please why are you doing this?” Her voice sounded muffled in her ears. She waited, her body tense from fear, to hear the sound again. Nothing. A swift burst of pain around her right temple caused her to cry out. The tears rolled down her face and into her shirt collar as she willed the pain to stop. She had to get out of here. As she concentrated as much as she could, bits and pieces of last night flooded her mind.
She had been so tired. The only thing good about going out was the virgin strawberry daiquiri she drank. Melanie had finally gone to Lisa and told her she was ready to go. Lisa had offered to go with her, but knowing how hard it was for her friend to get a babysitter, Melanie had told her to stay and have fun. Plus, Melanie knew Lisa wouldn’t have a problem getting a ride home.
Maybe she should have stayed longer, instead of leaving the club by herself. She’d walked past the bouncer. He had smiled and nodded at her. His smile had felt like the only genuine smile all evening. At least he hadn’t stopped her to get her autograph.
Outside it was cool, a nice spring night, with a slight breeze. Normally, she would love the smell of the blossoming. Normally, she would love the smell of the blossoming cherry trees that lined the sidewalk outside the club, but she was in no mood to enjoy. It was dark in the parking lot. She liked to park near the lampposts, but they had arrived later than usual, missing all the good parking spaces. Her heels clicked on the asphalt.
Funny, before American Voices, she would never wear heels. She couldn’t walk in them. Being up on that stage, she’d sung her heart out every week in three-inch stilettos. Apparently, the experience hadn’t helped her learn how to walk very well, as she stumbled over a rock. She caught herself and looked around, waiting for the laughter. These days everyone was laughing at her or looking at her with pity.
There were conversations going on in the parking lot. She noticed a couple cuddled up near a car. Their faces were so close, she was pretty sure they were in their own world. Melanie also remembered a group of guys hanging out. Smoke wafted around them as they laughed and talked smack. At the time she had been grateful for being invisible to them.
The last thought she could remember from last night was having her car keys in her hand. There was the familiar chirp after she pressed the button on her keys to unlock the car door. But before her hand touched the door handle, she sensed a presence behind her. There was no time to turn around before her mouth was covered. She struggled and then fell into unconsciousness.
So here she sat on a strange bed, in a strange place. Melanie squinted and focused on the room. In the semidarkness now, she could make out a door, because there was a thin stream of light coming from underneath. On the other side of the room, there was a small window, but it was covered with plywood from the outside. She couldn’t tell if it was daytime or nighttime from where she sat. Her life hadn’t turned out the way she’d wanted, but she wasn’t going to die here, not like this.
She opened her mouth to yell again. “Hello. Is anyone here? Why are you doing this?” Who are you?
Chapter Four
Angel shook herself awake, struggling to remember the day. Friday. She’d spent all Wednesday night and Thursday at the hospital, going home briefly yesterday afternoon to take a shower. As she sat up, the blanket she had had wrapped around her all night slid to the floor. She noticed the sunlight peeking from around the window blinds, casting a comforting glow across the stark hospital room. Angel turned her head and focused her drowsy eyes on Fredricka’s chest, to ensure it rose and fell. Grams was all she had.
Now, Angel was a granddaddy’s girl for sure. Despite losing his legs to diabetes, Nick Roberts never lost his spirit for life and God. He had been so proud of her the day she walked down the aisle at church to confess her faith in Christ. Grams had pushed his wheelchair toward the front of the church so he could be beside his Angel. He wouldn’t have been happy at the way she had lashed out at Grams Wednesday night.
She took a deep breath, exhaled, and lifted her head. She had gone to sleep in the chair with the television playing. She turned her attention to the television in the corner. Wes Cade was the anchorman for the morning news today. Now, there was a day brightener. Angel couldn’t remember the last time she had a crush, but Wes’s boyish good looks made her smile.
As she watched the news, footage of a young, pretty black woman appeared on the television screen. The woman appeared to be holding a microphone in her hand. She looked familiar.
Curious, Angel leaned forward to hear the woman singing a rendition of “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston. The young woman’s voice was hauntingly close to the popular singer’s.
Wes continued the story. “This morning’s lead story focuses on the disappearance of Melanie Stowe. Melanie, known simply as Mel to family and friends, went out with friends on Wednesday evening. Melanie left the Paradise Club before her friends but never arrived home. Some may recognize Melanie as a local celebrity here in Charlotte. She was recently a contestant on the national talent show American Voices. Even though Melanie didn’t make it as a finalist, her fan base increased each week she remained on the show. If you have any tips that could lead to Melanie’s whereabouts, please call the phone number on your screen.”
Angel sat back in her seat, thinking Melanie’s small celebrity status could help or hurt her. Oftentimes adult missing person cases weren’t given as much seriousness as child cases. Adults could come and go as they pleased. So many adult missing person cases were reported for a few days on the news and then disappeared from the media headlines. Angel prayed for Melanie’s safety. The young woman had been in the spotlight so much this year that maybe she wanted to disappear for a while.
For a brief moment, the news story strangely reminded Angel of her mother’s disappearance. Elisa could have been a superstar. Her mother’s voice would have easily blown away the competition on a show like American Voices.
Angel jumped in the chair when a chubby-cheeked nurse entered the room.
“Honey, you been here all night again? That chair can’t be comfortable. You should go home.” The nurse nodded toward Angel’s grandmother. “We can call you if anything changes.”
Angel shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I want to be here.”
“Is this your grandmother?”
She looked at the nurse and then back at Grams. “Yes, but she has been more like a mother. She raised me.”
“Oh my. Bless her heart. I’m a grandmother myself. I became one way before I was planning to be one, if you catch my drift. I do love my grandbabies, though.”
Angel had often wondered if she was more of a burden than a joy to her grandparents. She knew they loved her, but she imagined their life had turned out differently than they had planned. When she was younger, Fredricka had traveled with dance troupes across the country. Angel’s grandmother had enjoyed her dance career until she met up with Nick, a popular guitar player in the North Carolina–based band Southern Soul. The couple had left their respective roles in the entertainment business to raise Angel’s mother and uncle.
Angel reached over and smoothed her grandmother’s silvery hair, now a bit tangled from the ordeal. The doctor had said she might have been experiencing a headache and even dizziness prior to her fall. All signs of a stroke. This one was a minor one, but nonetheless still dangerous. Angel couldn’t help but think this was her fault. Grams had meant no harm with her comment.
The nurse invaded Angel’s thoughts. “Honey, do you have some family and friends who can come be with you? This can be really stressful.”
“Thanks for asking. Yes, I have been trying to contact my uncle.” Angel reached into her bag and pulled out her iPhone. Her uncle hadn’t responded to a single voice mail. Usually, if something was happening with Fredricka, Jacob would be on a plane or in a car immediately.
She walked out into the hallway and dialed Jacob’s cell number again. This time there was no voice mail greeting. It was weird for his voice mail box to be full. Her uncle was all about the business, with his Bluetooth wrapped around his ear like some body part. Angel leaned against the wall, pondering what to do. Aunt Liz. She searched through her phone, hoping she still had her aunt’s cell phone number.
Angel listened to the rings, trying to recall if her uncle and his family had any out-of-town plans.
“Hello.” Her aunt answered like she was out of breath.
“Aunt Liz, it’s Angel.” For a moment, Angel thought the call had dropped. “Hello?”
“Angel. I’m sorry. I was on the treadmill. I had to catch my breath. This is a surprise. Is everything okay?”
She answered, “No! Grams had a stroke Wednesday night. I’ve been calling Jacob for, like, two days now. Is there something wrong?”
Her aunt’s voice faltered again before she answered. “Angel, I’m sorry to hear about Fredricka. Is she okay?”
“She’s stable.” Angel huffed, “Liz, where is my uncle?” This is not like him.
“I don’t know.”
Liz spoke so low, Angel almost didn’t hear her. “What do you mean?”
“I guess Jacob hasn’t told anyone yet. Angel, I asked your uncle to move out a few weeks ago.”
“Are you serious?” Angel knew her uncle Jacob was not an easy man to be around, but she knew he loved Liz. The man worshipped the ground his wife walked on.
“I can’t go into it right now, Angel. It’s best your uncle talks to you. I’m sorry about Miss Fredricka. I will see if I can help you track down Jacob, okay?”
“Okay.” Angel ended the call and stared at the phone, still trying to comprehend what Liz had told her. Jacob and Liz had been married all of Angel’s life. No one was perfect, but her uncle and aunt had always embodied the perfect life. What had caused them to unravel?
Whatever was going on, she needed Jacob to show up soon. Grams would need some serious care and attention now. She couldn’t make these decisions on her own. Since her birthday, Angel had felt like she had crossed over into a new level of adulthood. Loneliness and fear crept into her mind as she leaned against the wall outside her grandmother’s hospital room.
Just as Angel was trying to get her life together, it seemed like her world was falling apart. Again.
Chapter Five
“Candace, I just don’t know if I can handle this. I just lost Granddad,” Angel confided on the phone.
“Honey, I know. It’s only been about six months, right? Look, Fredricka is strong, and she’s going to come through. God won’t give you more than you can bear.”
Angel felt grateful that Candace Johnson had taken the time from her busy Saturday morning schedule at the Crown of Beauty Salon to encourage her. If anyone knew about going through difficulties, it would be the woman who had become her surrogate big sister in the past year. Angel had observed Candace’s strength through the trial of the woman who had murdered both Candace’s husband and best friend. It was because of Candace that Angel began participating in the Overcomers Women’s Ministry, a ministry that Candace had started at Victory Gospel Church.
Angel confessed, “When we left the church the other night, we argued about my mother.”
“Did you tell her about the project you are working on?” Candace asked.
“No. When I started working on the documentary years ago, everyone seemed to be uptight about me digging up the past. I think Grams thinks my mother is going to walk back into our lives after all this time.”
“Angel, you know your grandmother is a woman of faith, but she would want you to do what you needed to do. Lord knows this has to be hard. I’ve lost loved ones, but I can’t imagine one of them simply disappearing and not knowing what happened to them.” Candace grew quiet and then inquired, “Angel, do you need me to come sit with you? I have a new stylist in the salon now, and she’s working out pretty good.”
“No, no. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. I know Saturday mornings are busy.”
“You know how much I love you and Fredricka. You both are family and were there for me and the kids this past year. Be sure to let Fredricka know I will stop by and take care of her hair. I know how she likes to be looking foxy.”
Angel laughed. “She would love that. Thanks, Candace.” After saying good-bye, Angel thought about Wednesday night’s birthday surprise, which she now knew Candace had secretly planned. Angel smiled. She’d missed what it felt like to have a genuine friend who cared.
She checked the clock on the wall. R
ight now Grams needed her. Angel rose from the chair to head back toward the hospital room. The CT scan and MRI had determined that the type of stroke Grams had Wednesday night was the result of a blood clot. Blessedly, they were able to arrive at the hospital in the crucial three-hour time frame for stroke victims, allowing the emergency room doctors to restore Grams’s blood flow. Now it was all about preventing a second stroke from occurring.
A bit of aphasia had set in, causing Grams to slur her words, and her right arm was not cooperating. The doctor seemed optimistic that with rehabilitation, Grams’s brain would rewire itself, giving her her mobility back. They needed to prepare for rehabilitation for a few weeks in the hospital before Grams could return home.
Angel walked into the hospital room and was startled by a figure in the room. At first she thought her uncle Jacob had snuck past her, but her uncle would never be caught in a cowboy hat. She grinned as the man rose from the seat in the corner, where she’d slept the night before.
“Uncle Eddie.” She crossed the room and hugged the tall, dark man. Eddie Gowins, better known as Eddie G., wasn’t really her uncle, but a longtime family friend. He had played the drums in the band with her granddad.
Angel stepped back to look up at him. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” Eddie was well over six feet tall, muscular, and almost imposing, especially today with his cowboy hat and boots.
Eddie had stopped smoking a few years ago, but the raspiness remained in his voice. “I heard through the grapevine, Fredricka wasn’t doing too good. You know I had to come see about Nick’s girl.”
Angel chuckled at Eddie’s reference to her almost eighty-year-old grandmother as her granddad’s girl. “She will be happy to see you.” Angel sat down at the bottom of the bed.
Eddie G. shook his head. “Man, I miss Nick. He knew how to live life to the fullest. Always admired your grandparents.”