by Tyora Moody
“I know. I wish someone had witnessed something that night. It’s crazy. So, what do you do with a case where there is no body? Like, there’s this case Pops worked on years and years ago. They had this person of interest, but they had no body and no evidence of a crime scene. All they could do is let him go. What if he got away with it just because he was clever enough to cover his tracks?”
Darnell leaned against his car. “That’s a hard one. There’s not much you can do unless the person confesses. These days we could do a little more with DNA, but in the case of Melanie Stowe, her car was swept for prints and there was nothing. I will say this, though. Someone had to be watching her very carefully. They had to know she was going to be at the club that night, and once they saw her alone, they took the opportunity.”
“A stalker. Maybe someone who was just a bit too much of a fan.”
“Yeah, it’s my understanding folks are looking into that now, but that’s a wild-goose chase.”
“There had to be some communication via e-mail, her social media, or a phone call.”
“Yeah, there was a lot of it. Do you know how many people tried to contact this woman? She probably went on that show thinking she would achieve her dreams. I imagine it had become a bit of a nightmare for her.” Darnell shook his head and held out his hand toward Wes. “All right, man. I have to head back. We have to do this again. Next time, it’s on.”
“You got it!”
Darnell and Wes exchanged a brotherly handshake. Wes got into his car. As Darnell drove off, Wes started thinking. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to Melanie’s stepmom himself, but now he wondered what the real reason was for Melanie moving back home. Before he could turn the car on, his phone rang.
Angel’s number showed on the display.
Chapter Twenty-three
Angel couldn’t help but smile as she heard Wes ask, “Are you sure about this?”
She responded, “Not really, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m sitting outside his house. I figured I would let you know. You know, if things don’t go well, I can blame you.” She laughed nervously.
She had located her dad’s house. It was actually pretty scary how much information about a person one could find online. After her dad left the Charlotte area, he had lived in several cities out west, but mainly Las Vegas and then San Diego. He seemed to start and lose businesses quite often. He’d finally hit it big with his latest business.
Wes said, “I wish you would have let me go with you. It might not be a good idea to do this by yourself.”
“I have to, Wes. Besides, he’s my father, and I need to know the truth.”
“If you sense something isn’t right, just leave. Okay?”
Angel heard the concern in Wes’s voice but was preoccupied by a movement in the house. Someone was peeking at her from the bay window in front of the house.
“Angel?”
She became aware of the urgency in Wes’s voice. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, I think someone is watching me from inside the house. I’m going to head to the door. Pray for me. Bye.” She clicked the phone off. Angel wasn’t sure why she’d called Wes. She couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone else.
Before she went to bed last night, she had mapped out the route to the Mancini home. She had prayed to God during the entire thirty-minute drive that if this wasn’t the right thing to do, He would stop her.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart.
When she’d left the house, the sun was shining bright, but at some point in her journey clouds had gathered, bringing raindrops. Through the short rainstorm, Angel had kept driving.
She looked at the house again and said to herself, “Okay, let’s do this.” As she walked toward the front door, she could smell wet grass and see raindrops lingering on the flowers. The clouds had pulled back, allowing the sun’s rays to break through.
She took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. A few minutes later she heard a woman’s voice behind the door say, “If you are a reporter, go away.”
Angel frowned and answered back. “I’m not a reporter. I’m here to see Angelino Mancini. Is he here?” Angel assumed the woman must be her dad’s wife.
The door opened from inside, and Angel could see the shape of a woman through the screen door. The woman responded tartly, “Yes, can I help you . . . ?” The woman stopped talking and then opened the screen door. Angel stepped away from the door quickly as the woman stuck her head out. The woman stared at her. “You?”
Angel did a double take. She’d seen this woman before. It was the strange woman from Lenora’s bridal shop. Angel said, “I saw you last week.”
“Yes, I was there getting my daughter’s dress fitted. Are you here about the dress?” the woman questioned her.
Angel felt really warm all of sudden, and it had nothing to do with the sun shining on her back. Why did she not think her father would have another family? A wife and a daughter? “Maybe I should come back.” She turned around.
“Wait,” the woman called out to her. “Your father would want to meet you.”
Angel spun around and narrowed her eyes. “You know who I am?”
The woman shook her head. “I knew who you were when I saw you last week. You look so much like your mother. I’m Leslie. Why don’t you come in? Your father will be back in a few minutes.”
Angel stared at the woman, taking in her blond hair and blue eyes, which were so very different from those of her chocolate-skinned mother. She wondered again what had driven her parents together and ultimately apart.
Inside the house on the cul-de-sac, Angel took in the high ceiling and the staircase that led up to a second floor. Leslie showed her into the living room, which was off to the side. Angel followed her, her sneakers sinking into the plush white carpet. She had a feeling her father had indeed done very well and Leslie enjoyed decorating the home.
Before taking a seat, Angel glimpsed at photos of a young girl with tanned skin and brunet hair on a table behind the couch. She asked, “Your daughter?”
“That’s Celeste.” Leslie walked over to the other side of the room and picked up a framed photo of another child. “You recognize this little girl?”
Angel did a double take for a second time. Of all the scenarios she’d imagined, she clearly hadn’t expected this. The little caramel-skinned girl with the curly ponytail was definitely a mini-version of her staring back at her from the photo. Her eyes blurred as she looked away from the image. This wasn’t making sense. Her father had never reached out to her all these years. Why would his wife recognize Angel and have a photo of her in the living room?
“Would you like something to drink?” Leslie asked.
Angel shook her head, although it felt like something had found its way into her air passages and was lodged there. She cleared her throat. “Why did you think I was a reporter?”
Leslie clasped her hands. “Oh, there was a reporter here a few weeks ago. Sometimes it’s best to leave the past alone.”
Angel frowned and started to ask Leslie what she meant, but the front door opened, interrupting her. Leslie looked at her and then walked briskly out of the room.
It’s him. He’s here.
Angel rubbed her head, experiencing a swift feeling of coldness, then warmth, come over her. Her stomach churned as she faced the man who’d entered the room.
She recognized her father’s face, despite his extra weight and graying temples. His eyes were locked on her and were brimming with emotion. Was he excited or horrified to see her? She couldn’t tell.
After a few seconds, he spoke. “I always knew this day would come. It’s good to finally see you again, Angel.”
Leslie smiled and touched her husband on the shoulder. “I will leave you two alone.”
She watched Leslie leave and stared at her father, still not quite sure what to say.
He asked, “Why don’t we sit down?”
She waited for him to pass by and sit in a chair that must have been his chair. A large
flat-screen TV stood in a tall cabinet with doors. She sat down on the couch, her eyes studying other parts of the room before landing on his face.
He said, “So, you are a videographer. I’ve seen your work. It’s really good.”
Her mouth felt cottony as words tumbled out. “How do you know about me? And how does your wife knows who I am?” She had more questions now that she was here.
He leaned forward. “I know you have many questions, but I’ve never forgotten you. I have sent you cards and gifts every year. Especially on your birthday and again at Christmas. At some point I hoped your family would understand we needed to have a relationship. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to move back east. I was hoping we could meet again.”
Angel shook her head. “I have never received anything from you.”
Her father’s shoulders sagged. “That figures. Even after the police cleared me as a person of interest, your grandparents forbade me from contacting you.”
“Well, what happened that night? I remember you both were shouting at each other. Then you came into my room and brought me my birthday present. You said, ‘Happy birthday, princess.’ Then you were gone. I wound up the back of the music box and watched the ballerina go round and round until I grew sleepy. I must have fallen asleep, because I opened my eyes and felt my mother kiss me on my forehead, and then she was gone. It’s like I lost both of you the same night.”
“I’m so sorry, Angel.”
“Tell me, what did you say to her?”
“I just talked to her. I wanted us to get back together.”
“Why did you break up?”
“We were both young. She wanted her singing career. I was moving my way up in the boxing division. We were just on two different paths.”
“So you came to beg her to come back to you? Why then?”
Angelino looked at her for a long time. “You look so much like her. Your mother wanted to be a star. The stage was where she loved to be the most. I loved her voice. She could move me to tears. After she had you, she waited a long time to get a record deal. She finally got an offer.”
“And?”
“I told her not to take the deal. She was furious and accused me of trying to hold her back. I told her she just needed to be patient. The record company wasn’t reputable. She wouldn’t have the long career she had always wanted. I wasn’t the only one who warned her. Her dad and Jacob told her the same thing.”
“Really? What did you know about the company?”
“Royal Records was the company. They came up fast and heavy in about two years. There was some shadiness around some of the artists, not that they didn’t have legitimate talent. I checked around with some friends in the industry and a lawyer. I knew Elisa wouldn’t. She had gotten to a point where she wasn’t listening to anyone.”
Angelino rubbed his head much the way Angel had rubbed hers a while ago. He sat back in his chair and sighed. “One of their artists, a one-hit-wonder rapper, was killed a few weeks after Elisa was offered the deal. That should have set off all kinds of alarms for her. I told her she really should think this through. The music industry was hard on a person. You were young and needed your mother.”
Angel watched her father’s face. He seemed in pain, as if he had really wanted to save her mother. “Why would they suspect you did something to her?” she asked.
Angelino sighed. “I loved your mother, but we did fight. She knew what she wanted. I wanted what I had growing up. A family.” He looked at her. “How is your family?”
“My granddad passed away a few months ago, complications of diabetes. Grams suffered a stroke a few weeks ago.”
“Ah, kid! So sorry to hear. Your grandparents were beautiful people. They accepted me in Elisa’s life. It always hurt me that they thought I did something to her. I would have never hurt her. I want you to believe me.”
Angel wasn’t sure what to believe.
“I hope you received the birthday card I sent recently. You turned twenty-five about two weeks ago. That’s how old she was when . . .”
She looked at him. “I never saw it.” She stood. “I need to go. Thanks for seeing me.”
He stood with her. “I hope you will come back. Get to know Leslie and Celeste. Your sister.”
She’d always wanted a sibling, but this was enough for today. Angel turned and headed out of the living room. When she reached the front door, her father opened it and said, “Anytime. You are welcome here anytime.”
Angel gazed into her father’s eyes, still stunned by the warmth she saw. She nodded and walked toward the car, not daring to look back. Tears blurred her vision. She was having a difficult time envisioning the man she had just met being the monster her family had painted him to be. Or was he the worse monster of all? The kind you couldn’t see until it was too late?
Chapter Twenty-four
Angel had said something to Wes that he couldn’t recall ever hearing from a woman. Pray for me. All the anxiety he felt about her going to see her father and what could happen faded away as he prayed for Angel. He prayed for her safety and for her visit to be the first step toward her having a relationship with one of her parents. He was reminded of that one brief moment during the wedding when they looked at each other.
Was it just him, or did Angel feel something too? He was not a believer in love at first sight. Then again, ever since she showed up at the house to see Pops, Wes felt compelled to help Angel find closure about her mother.
Wes drove by himself today, instead of bringing Rick. He had something he wanted to do, and he didn’t want to be obvious by driving the news station vehicle or bringing a cameraman. So he parked his personal car in a parking space about five houses down from the Stowes’ home. With Melanie being gone for about two weeks now, the media attention around the house had subsided. He had gathered interviews with members of the search team, noting that some of them had also wondered why more of Melanie’s family wasn’t represented. Wes had decided to talk to Melanie’s stepmother, which he hadn’t done since Serena passed the assignment to him.
He rang the doorbell and waited. Finally, the door was opened. Wes looked down to see a young child looking back at him. He bent down and said hello to the little girl. She was a miniature, but chubbier version of Melanie. The girl was holding a purple Popsicle in her hand, and the juice had run down her arm, staining the front of her dingy white T-shirt.
“Get away from the door. I told you not to answer that door,” a woman shrieked from the back. Snatching the child out of the doorway, the woman, whose hair was braided, looked at Wes. Her tiny braids were pulled back from her face to show weary, red-brimmed eyes. “What do you want? I don’t want any more reporters here. Stay away from me and my children.” The woman started to close the door.
Wes held his hand out and shouted, “Wait! I just want to know how you are doing.”
She held the door open a crack and said, “What do you care?”
Wes kept talking. “It must be hard to feel like a prisoner in your own house. Do you need anything? Are the kids okay?”
“We’re fine.”
“I know the search team is exhausted. You have a lot of good people working to find Melanie. Do you want to share anything about your stepdaughter?”
The woman pulled the door open wider. Finally, she sighed deeply. “Come in. You have five minutes.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
She shoved her finger at him. “I’m just letting you in because I’ve seen you on TV. You seem okay.”
Wes smiled, thankful for being a familiar face. As he stepped inside, Wes was sure his eyes grew wide. There were toys everywhere. He gingerly stepped around Legos, toy cars, and dolls. Two children were asleep on one couch, while the child who had answered the door had plopped down cross-legged in front of the television.
The woman kept walking as Wes weaved his way behind her to a dining area off the living room. The dining room table seated six but didn’t seem to be a place for eating, as a
sewing machine, thread, yarn, and piles of children’s clothes covered the top. Gladys sat down in a chair that had already been pulled away from the table. Wes pulled out the chair adjacent to where Gladys sat. He realized she probably had been sitting at the table when he arrived. She picked up a child’s pair of pants and absently folded them, placing them on a neat stack of clothes in front of her.
A question crossed Wes’s mind. Why would Melanie move back here? He hadn’t seen any other parts of the house, but how would the twenty-one-year-old fit in this house physically and mentally? He couldn’t tell Mrs. Stowe’s age but was sure she was younger than she appeared.
“Mrs. Stowe, is it all right if I call you Gladys?” Wes interpreted the slight movement of her head as a nod. “Gladys, I know this must be a rough time for you, so I won’t hold you long.”
“Would you like some water?” she asked him.
“No, I’m fine.” Wes looked over at the shelves. There were family photos. “Did Melanie stay here before she disappeared?”
“She stayed here for a while. She had found another apartment, but she still hadn’t moved all her stuff out yet.”
“Do you know what happened to the other apartment?”
The woman shook her head. “I have no idea. Look, I loved the girl like she was my own. After her father went to prison, I made sure she was cared for and she graduated. This was her home.”
“That was admirable of you. Where is Mr. Stowe these days? I heard he had been released.”
Gladys rolled her eyes. “Who knows? I certainly don’t, and most days I don’t care. He wasn’t much help, other than making babies.”
Wes decided to change the subject. “How did you feel about Melanie being on American Voices?”
“I was proud of her. She should have won. First time I met her, she was singing. She was a singing little girl.” Gladys fiddled with the clothes on the table. “She’d been through a lot. Losing her mother when she was young. I tried to make it work, but her father was a different story.”
“Have you seen him?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? He in some kind of trouble?”