by Tyora Moody
“I miss him too, Eddie.”
For an awkward moment, they sat quietly. Angel folded and then unfolded her arms.
She peered at Eddie and asked, “So how’s Denise doing?” She cleared her throat so she wouldn’t choke on her next comment about Eddie’s daughter. “I hear she is getting married soon.”
Eddie stared at her for a moment before he answered. He shook his head. “Yes. The wedding is later this summer. I was just talking about you the other day. Would be nice if you could film the wedding. I’ve heard great things about your video business.”
Her business, Angel Media, was booming due to the fact that the wedding season had just begun. She’d worked hard last year starting up the company and putting together a portfolio. Angel felt she brought a unique style to the footage she shot and edited. Despite reservations from her family, she was doing the entrepreneurial thing, something that awed her sometimes.
Angel crossed her arms. Despite her success, she couldn’t see offering her services to Denise. How could she when three years ago, Kenneth Morgan, now Denise’s fiancé, was the love of Angel’s life? That day when Angel walked in on Denise and Kenneth together at his apartment, she’d lost her best friend and boyfriend. Later, when she found out Denise had had a baby boy with Kenneth, Angel lost herself. It had only been by building her business and becoming a Christian in the past year that she’d found her footing.
She shook her head. “Sorry, Eddie. I’m not sure if I could. Don’t get me wrong. Things worked out the way they needed to. I just don’t know if I should be anywhere near the wedding.” For years, both she and Denise had talked about how they would be the maid of honor at each other’s wedding. All that was history now.
“I’m so sorry to see you two girls are not friends anymore. You were like sisters.”
Before she could respond, Angel heard movement behind her. The nurse was rolling Grams back in from rehab. Her grandmother looked at her, but Angel couldn’t read Grams’s expression, because her eyes lacked the usual spark.
Eddie bowed his head toward Grams, not speaking a word until the nurse helped her back into the bed.
Grams quietly nodded in Eddie’s direction.
Eddie bowed his head again. “Fredricka, I just wanted to check on you. You know I promised Nick I would look after you and Angel. I’ll come back when you are up to it.” He winked at her and then placed his cowboy hat on his head. “Angel, let’s talk soon. I’d like to help you get some business.”
“Thanks, Uncle Eddie.”
As Eddie approached the door, a man swooped in. Both men almost collided with each other.
Her uncle Jacob looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His chocolate brown face was covered with a several days old beard peppered with gray. Jacob glared at Eddie. “Eddie. What are you doing here?”
Eddie retorted, “I’m leaving, Jake. No need to upset your mother.”
Angel could hear the tap of Eddie’s cowboy boots as he made his way down the hallway. She had never understood why Jacob disliked Eddie. The feelings were mutual. Eddie wasn’t too fond of Jacob, either. She had often wondered if the rivalry stemmed from Granddaddy always including Eddie in family events, almost like he was a son.
Grams sputtered, “Jake . . .”
Jacob moved to the side of the bed and leaned his head against Fredricka’s forehead. “Mom, it’s okay. I’m here. You are going to be all right.”
Angel was glad he was there, but wanted an explanation. “Jacob, I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Her uncle kept his attention on his mother. “I’m here now, Angel. I will take over from here. Go home and get some rest.”
What? He was just going to sail in here and dismiss her? Where had he been? He could at least reveal what was up with him and Aunt Liz. Angel’s rising emotions were interrupted by her vibrating phone. She reached in her pocket and pulled out the phone. When she looked down at the caller ID, her anger toward her uncle switched to anxiety.
Angel glanced at her family and then slipped out into the hallway to answer the call. “Hello.”
“Angel? Angel Roberts?”
Angel answered, “Yes.”
“Hello. This is Jennifer from the Bring Them Home Foundation. We used to keep in touch with Nick Roberts about cases that came in.”
A few weeks before he passed away, Angel’s granddad had given Angel a shoe box full of correspondence, most of it from this organization. “Yes. He passed away late last year. I touched base with someone in your office a few months ago to let you know that I wanted to receive those updates.”
“I will be happy to work with you. I worked with Mr. Roberts for many years. Now Elisa, she’s your mother.
“Yes.”
The woman on the other end of the line was quiet for a few seconds. “I do want to warn you this process can be difficult, and it’s been a number of years now.”
“I understand. I need to do this.”
“Okay. We have had a few Jane Doe cases come in.”
Angel leaned against the wall and gripped the phone.
“But I’m sorry none of them were a match for your mother.”
Angel let out the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Okay.”
“You know, I preferred not to dash Mr. Roberts’s hopes, but he wanted any information we had. I think it was important to him to know we were still actively working to find your mother.”
“We appreciate your organization doing this. Please keep me updated too.”
After saying good-bye, Angel clicked the phone off. It was definitely time for her to move forward. She needed to start by putting together the events that led up to the night her mother disappeared. There had to be some clues people have been overlooking all these years.
There was one man who could help her. Her granddad had lost faith in him, but when Angel started on the documentary a few years back, she realized Detective Lenny Cade’s obsession would become her main connection to the past.
Chapter Six
Wes turned into the drive of the home where he grew up. It resembled most of the other brick homes with one-car garages in the cul-de-sac. His mother used to spend a lot of time in the garden. As he exited his Honda, Wes noticed a few of the annuals, but the yard definitely had a neglected feel to it.
He unlocked the front door, expecting the smells of a home-cooked meal. Instead he was met by a gloomy quietness. The blinds were closed shut in the living room. Everything about his childhood home seemed so different. Maybe because he was different.
He called out, “Mom!” His mother knew he was coming by. Wes strained his ears and heard voices coming from the bedroom down the hallway. He walked hesitantly toward the open bedroom door with his ear cocked to catch the conversation.
“Dad, Baxter isn’t here. Look, please let’s get you dressed.”
“Well, where is he? Wanda, we have to find him.”
Wes entered the room. “Mom. Pops.”
Wanda turned toward him, her face weary. “Hey, Wes.”
“Let me help you.” He moved to the other side of his grandfather and grabbed the sleeve that his mother had been trying to help guide Pops’s arm through.
Pops looked at him with a faint smile. “Boy, where you been? Did you bring the girl home with you?”
Wes grinned. “Nope. No girl this time, Pops.”
“Wes, you got to help me find Baxter.” Pops’s eyes were drooping, and his speech was slurred.
Wes patted his grandfather’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Pops. Baxter is fine. Why don’t you lay back and enjoy a nap?” Pops seemed to be drifting in and out of a memory from a decade ago. The last time Wes had brought a girl home was when he was in college, right around the time Pops’s chocolate Lab, Baxter, had died.
Wanda switched the channels on the television until she found what appeared to be an old black-and-white Western. She turned and smiled. “His favorite.” She nodded for Wes to move toward the door.
Once th
ey both were outside in the hallway, his mom touched his arm. She eyed him. “Seems like every time he sees you, he is asking about some girl. Is there something I should know?”
Wes laughed. “Believe me, I’d like to know too.”
His mother smiled. “Oh, hon, the right girl will come along when you are not looking. I can tell you this here girl is sorry I haven’t had a chance to start dinner yet.”
“Mom, don’t even sweat it.” Besides, what he really needed was some spiritual food today. After joining Serena at her apartment on Friday night, Wes realized he had grown lethargic about his commitments.
His mother walked ahead down the hall. “Tell me about church. I’ve missed too many Sundays with Dad needing care. The younger Freeman is pretty much pastoring now, right?”
Reverend Jonathan Freeman had been filling in for his ailing father, senior pastor of Victory Gospel Church, for a year now. Wes followed behind her into the kitchen. “Yes. The older reverend still attends when he is able, but his son delivers the sermons most Sundays now.”
As they entered the small kitchen, Wes stopped and looked around. He had spent many afternoons working on homework at the round country table. He watched his mother open and close cabinets and then open the fridge to stare at the shelves. Wanda put her hands on her hips. “My goodness, Wes, I should have gone grocery shopping. It just slipped my mind.”
Wes responded, “Why don’t we eat out?”
Wanda turned and shook her head. “Wes, I can’t leave him.”
“Yes, of course. I will pick up some food.” Wes scolded himself for not thinking to grab some food after he left church. He should have known not to expect his mother to fix a Sunday meal. Life was no longer the same.
His mother touched his cheek. “My sweet boy. I sure could put my feet up right about now.” Wanda entered the living room and turned the lamps on. A warmth radiated from the golden lamp shades, pushing the gloominess away. As Wanda sank into the recliner, she said with a sigh, “Honey, whatever you find to eat works for me.”
Wes left the house. As he drove away from the house, he fought back emotions. Pops lost in the past. His mother’s weary spirit. He had always had a small family, just Mom and Pops. Both of them seemed so fragile now. He felt like he should be doing more.
Wes pulled into a nearby Chinese restaurant. The restaurant was packed with people dressed in their church clothes. He walked up to the counter and ordered broccoli and chicken, pork fried rice, egg rolls, and wings from the menu. Not the most healthy selections, but this was the kind of meal his mom would bring home after working a long shift at the hospital. He liked seeing her come through the door with the brown paper bag, oftentimes with one side soaked from the food cartons inside.
As he sat waiting for his order, some people recognized him. That was one of the benefits of being a local reporter. He usually liked to talk, but he was in a subdued mood at the moment and just wanted to get back to his family. Like the curious reporter he was, he checked his phone. He wanted to keep up with any leads in the disappearance of that local celebrity, Melanie. Back in the day, his pops would have been on a missing case like this.
“Sir, your order is ready.” The cashier interrupted his scrolling through e-mail.
Wes inhaled the smells coming from the brown bag as he drove back to his mother’s house. He was hungrier than he thought. As Wes approached the house, he saw a small white car, what looked like a Toyota Corolla, parked in front of the house. He didn’t remember his mother mentioning anything about company. He turned into the drive, cut off the car, and then grabbed the bag. As he headed toward the front door, he noticed a young woman had stepped out of the driver’s side of the car. There was something about her face that seemed so familiar. Where had he seen her before?
His reporter’s senses kicked in as she approached.
It was hard to tell her age. She was about four inches shorter than him, and her curly black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her face appeared apprehensive as she approached him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
She stared at his face and then finally stuttered, “Yes, I’m l-looking for Detective Lenny Cade.”
Wes frowned. No one had referred to his grandfather as a detective in years. Pops had been retired about seven years now. “That’s my grandfather. May I ask why you are looking for him?”
She looked down at the restaurant bag in his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. I wondered if this was a good idea.” The woman clasped her small hands and then pulled them apart as she talked. “I just left church, and I’ve been driving around and around. I thought I would try to see him. Is he here?”
Now more curious, Wes studied the young woman. She looked so familiar to him, but he could not figure out why. “He’s not up for company today.”
“Okay. Well, when is a good time to see him?”
Feeling a bit protective of Pops, Wes narrowed his eyes. “Who did you say you were again?”
“I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m being so rude,” she blurted. “My name is Angel. Angel Roberts. Detective Cade was a friend of my grandfather, Nick Roberts. I wanted to ask him some questions about my mother’s case. Elisa Roberts.”
Speechless, Wes stared at the woman. That was where the familiarity was coming from. He’d recently seen pictures of Elisa Roberts. He remembered a photo of a little girl. Well, here she was, all grown up. She had definitely inherited her mother’s beautiful bone structure.
Wes responded, “Why don’t you come in? Maybe I can help you.” Maybe they could help each other.
Chapter Seven
Now what? Angel had had no clue the reporter Wes Cade was related to Detective Lenny Cade. She followed Wes into the house, wondering if this was a good idea. Her goal was to do her investigation without letting anyone in her family know. This guy’s whole career was based on reporting stories. Not that it would be a bad idea. Maybe she needed some media attention on her mother’s disappearance. It had been so long.
Her beautiful African American mother had been in the news for a few weeks only because her granddad was a famous local musician. It angered her that the media gave attention to certain high-profile missing person cases, while others were barely mentioned. Thankfully, today there was the Internet and social media, which helped with spreading the news.
Angel focused on the cozy living room she had stepped into. A woman who resembled Wes was sitting in a recliner and appeared to have been disturbed from a nap. Her curly sister locks were peppered with gray and positioned high on the top of her head.
The woman blinked several times and said, “Wes, honey, you were supposed to come back with food. I didn’t know you planned to come back with a guest.” Despite her comment, a smile spread across the older woman’s face, putting Angel at ease.
“I will explain. Let me put this food in the kitchen,” Wes replied.
Wes disappeared through a doorway off the living room. Angel wondered if he had had second thoughts about inviting her inside. She didn’t have long to ponder this before he returned. He stared intently at her.
“This is my mother, Wanda. Mom, this is—”
“I know who she is, Wes. It’s Angel, right?”
Startled, both Angel and Wes eyed Wanda.
Wes blurted, “Mom, how did you know who she was?”
Wanda lifted herself from the recliner and walked around the coffee table, which was covered with family photos and African American figurines, and extended her hand toward Angel. “I knew your mother. You look so much like her. She was a beautiful woman. Your grandmother too. Beauty runs in the family.”
Angel’s face grew warm. She knew her fair skin had probably turned visibly red around her ears and cheeks. She shook Wanda’s hand. “Thank you. I really hate to intrude on your Sunday afternoon. I’ve been working up the nerve to do this for some time.”
“No problem. We haven’t had guests in some time on Sunday. Why don’t you sit down?” Wanda took her arm
and guided her to the couch.
Angel glanced at Wes, who stood watching the exchange between his mother and her. She didn’t want to look at his face too long. This was the same man she stared at, instead of listening to, when he reported the news. His clean-shaven face was stunningly handsome up close, kind of reminiscent of one of her favorite actors, Columbus Short. Wes must have been to church today, because he still was dressed in a suit, minus the jacket.
She’d gone to the eight o’clock service, despite not having Grams beside her. The absence of Grams had weighed heavily on her as she listened to the morning message. A few years ago, she wouldn’t have cared about having her grandparents around, but she missed both of them today. They had been a major force in her life, always there when she needed them, even when she’d been rebellious.
After the call from the Bring Them Home Foundation, she didn’t sleep, not that she’d been sleeping much, anyway. She decided today was the day she would try to see Detective Cade. Angel had met him twice in her life. Once with her granddad. She remembered the depth of sadness and the tears that did not fall as Granddad asked Detective Cade if he would continue to look for her mother. Angel was almost seven years old then, and she remembered that the conversation took place a few weeks before she started second grade.
The second time she met Detective Cade was at the opening of Southern Soul Café. Her granddad and the detective had gathered there with other members of the popular North Carolina–based band. What she remembered most was the coldness her granddad displayed toward Detective Cade. She’d always thought of her granddad as warm and funny. It never occurred to her that he would not speak to someone. At some point, Detective Cade came over to her to introduce himself. He was the first person who commented about how much she resembled her mother. She didn’t think so.
Wanda returned to the recliner, while Wes sat down in a chair. Angel sat on the couch and turned her body slightly toward Wanda. “I really appreciate this. My granddad passed away about six months ago. Unfortunately, my grandmother suffered a minor stroke this past week.”