Child of Mine: a psychological thriller

by Chambers, V. J.

  It was the wine that had made her think—

  No, she wasn’t even going over that again. There was no reason to think it. She wouldn’t allow herself to form the thought again. It was ridiculous.

  She knew her son.

  And he was her son. She had raised him. She had loved him. She had bandaged his scraped knees and changed his diapers. She was his mother.

  She rubbed her forehead. Best to distract herself from all this.

  She returned to the living room and flipped on the TV.

  The news was on. She was about to change the channel, because she didn’t like watching the news—too much violence, too much to remind herself of being a profiler, too much nightmare fodder.

  But she wasn’t fast enough.

  “…related to the murder of Brittany Lewis?” someone was saying. It was a split screen, with two reporters on either side. One was clearly on location and the other was in the studio.

  “Well, we sure hope not,” said the reporter on location. “But we can’t be sure either way. The two missing girls are the same age as Brittany, and they did go missing here in Woodbury.”

  “But Rob,” said the reporter in the studio. “Aren’t these girls older than Brittany Lewis? They’re both eighteen, right? Maybe they just left home together.”

  “That is what we’re all hoping,” said the reporter. “Let’s go to a prerecorded statement from the families of Calico Walker and Darla Robinson.”

  The screen switched to a woman with red eyes standing with a man, who had his arm around her, and another woman, alone, who looked through the camera. The red-eyed woman started to speak. “Calico, sweetheart, if you’re out there, please call home. We’re worried about you, baby.”

  “If anyone has seen our girls,” said the man, “please call the police and let them know.”

  Pictures of two girls appeared on the screen, both young and pretty and blond.

  Lorelei flipped the channel.

  More news.

  “…two girls went out last night and have still not come home to their families this Saturday morning. Parents say it is very unlike either Calico Walker or Darla Robinson not to at least check in with their families, and in the wake of the murder of Brittany—”

  Lorelei switched the TV off.

  Saturday?

  What?

  Where the hell was Simon?

  * * *

  “Don’t be mad, Mom,” Simon was saying on the other end of the phone. “I don’t want you to think that anything, like, happened with me and Jordan. Because it’s not really like that with us, you know? We’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but we’re not… doing things.”

  Lorelei gripped the phone. “You couldn’t call me?”

  “No, because I was asleep,” said Simon.

  “Before you fell asleep.”

  “Well, we fell asleep watching a movie,” said Simon. “And then I just woke up now, when you called. And I have to hang up, because I have to sneak out of Jordan’s room before her mom finds me. Her mom would not like this.”

  “So, that’s where you are right now? You’re at Jordan’s place.”

  “Yeah, I parked the car at our apartment and then I walked Jordan home, and then we decided to watch a movie, and then I fell asleep.” Simon paused. “Hey, you’re not going to tell Jordan’s mom, are you? I know you guys are friends, but you can’t tell her. Jordan’s mom is really hard on Jordan, and if you say anything—”

  “I won’t,” Lorelei muttered. It was true about Mia. The woman might be Lorelei’s best friend, but she was far too demanding when it came to her daughter. She had very set ideas about how Jordan should behave, and she was constantly disappointed in the girl. Mia wanted a different daughter than the one she had. She wanted a dainty, careful girl who liked pink and ruffles. Jordan was never going to be that.

  Additionally, Mia was very, very fastidious about privacy. Even when the two kids were toddlers, Mia would never change Jordan’s diaper in front of anyone else, claiming it wasn’t fair for children to be exposed against their will in front of people. She wouldn’t let the two children take baths together, either, even when they were only two years old. Mia said it wasn’t appropriate for boys and girls to be naked around each other.

  When the kids got older, they used to want to have sleepovers together. Lorelei didn’t see anything wrong with two seven-year-old kids sleeping on the floor in separate sleeping bags, but Mia always forbade it.

  So, Lorelei could just imagine how Mia would react to a sleepover now, when the kids were teenagers and dating. Mia would go through the roof.

  Actually, Lorelei wasn’t pleased about it either. “Listen, Simon, maybe we need to have a talk.”

  “No,” said Simon. “We don’t. I told you that we weren’t doing things.”

  “It’s only that if you’re too embarrassed to buy condoms—”

  “Mom!” Simon’s voice was agonized. “Please stop.”

  Lorelei sighed.

  “I’ll be home soon,” said Simon. “I swear.”

  Lorelei hung up the phone and waited. She believed Simon that it had been a mistake and that he’d fallen asleep accidentally, because Simon didn’t lie. He had a very strict moral code, and he didn’t do things that he thought were wrong. Lying was wrong. Simon didn’t lie.

  At least he didn’t used to lie. But he hadn’t told her that he was friends with Brittany Lewis, had he?

  She chewed on her thumbnail. But maybe she should react to this more strongly than just letting it all slide. He had broken the rules and stayed out late and worried her, and she needed for him to understand that wasn’t acceptable. Maybe she should ground him?

  The door opened.

  It was Simon. Except he wasn’t alone. Jordan was with him. Jordan’s hair was in a sloppy, slept-in ponytail.

  “Jordan?” said Lorelei. “What are you doing here?”

  “Is it okay?” said Jordan in a quiet voice. She looked very upset.

  Actually, come to think of it, Simon looked upset too. He hadn’t sounded upset over the phone.

  “Hey, what’s up with you guys?” said Lorelei. “Did something happen?”

  “We’re going to my room,” said Simon, pushing past her.

  She grabbed him by the elbow. “Hold on a second, young man. You broke the rules last night. You didn’t come home. And now you charge back in with Jordan and expect me to pretend nothing happened?”

  He pulled his arm out of her grasp like it was nothing. “I told you it was an accident, Mom.” He gave her a look of disbelief, as if he was horrified that she didn’t see that he was telling the truth.

  She sighed. “Simon, I can’t have that happen again.”

  “It won’t. I promise. Next time we watch a movie, I’ll set an alarm on my phone to wake me up before curfew.”

  “Me too,” said Jordan.

  Lorelei pointed at Jordan. “Does your mother know where you are now?”

  Jordan wouldn’t meet Lorelei’s gaze.

  “You better get home, missy,” said Lorelei. “Your mother’s going to look in your room, and you’re going to be gone, and with these other girls missing, she’ll lose her mind.”

  Simon visibly flinched.

  Lorelei swallowed. “Simon? What do you know about those girls?”

  Simon shook his head. “Can’t talk about this, mom. And Jordan’s with me.” He seized the girl by the arm and dragged her into his bedroom. Then he slammed the door in Lorelei’s face.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Her head was pounding. Her back was hurting. She kept thinking horrible thoughts about her own damned son, thoughts that she should never think about her sweet little boy.

  And so Lorelei just left it. She left the kids in Simon’s room and she went back to her bedroom and lay down on the bed and started googling everything she could find on the Brittany Lewis case.

  Simon was acting suspicious.

  No, no, he wasn’t. It was her. She was thinking horrible thin
gs, and it was making him seem suspicious. But Simon could never hurt a fly, and she knew this. Just because of their past, just because of where Simon came from, that didn’t mean anything.

  There wasn’t much to find on Brittany Lewis. The police seemed to be keeping most of the salient details secret. They hadn’t even released the exact location of the body or how they’d found it.

  And the missing girls? Was that related?

  It was probably like they were saying on the news. Probably that the girls had just run off and not called home to talk to their parents. Honestly, eighteen was too old to be at home anymore. When Lorelei had been eighteen, she’d been in a dorm, and she’d come and gone as she pleased. She didn’t typically stay out all night, true, but she did have a roommate who was always meeting a new guy and staying at his place for nights on end until the short-lived romance was unceremoniously over, and then the roommate would be back at home, moping around until the next guy came along.

  Of course, this was two girls.

  What were the odds they’d both made a love connection on the same night?

  Lorelei furrowed her brow. Maybe they were lesbians. Secret lesbians who’d run away together. That made better sense than the idea that they’d both hooked up with a guy and stayed out all night. But Lorelei wasn’t sure how likely it was for people to be secret lesbians anymore. Maybe if they both had very strict religious families who didn’t approve of homosexuality, they would have hidden their affection for the other and then been so tortured by their secrecy that they’d felt forced to run away so that they could be together in the open.

  It was a nice story, but Lorelei didn’t have any evidence for it. She’d learned in her profiler training that concocting stories was all well and good, but that they meant nothing if there was no evidence to corroborate them. However, she didn’t really have any evidence at all when it came to these girls. She only knew the bare bones facts of their disappearance. And that was fine, actually, because there was no reason to think that this disappearance was connected.

  Simply because she’d spent her career tracking serial killers didn’t mean that there were serial killers everywhere.

  The Brittany Lewis murder was most probably a regular murder. A crime of passion or opportunity or rage.

  And it had nothing to do with Simon.

  Simon was coming out of his room.

  She sat up on her bed, abandoning her laptop, and hurried out to intercept him. “Simon, I think we should talk. I think you should send Jordan home and you and I should have a conversation. I need you to tell me everything you know about Brittany and chess club and those missing girls.”

  Simon blinked. “I don’t have anything else to tell you, Mom.” His voice was monotone and bored, almost dismissive. It reminded her of another man using a similar voice, only he’d done it with a sinister smile.

  Lorelei felt ill.

  “My mom wants to take us out to breakfast,” said Jordan.

  “Mia knows you’re over here?” Lorelei said.

  “No,” said Jordan. “She texted me. I have to get back, actually. But she said I should text Simon and ask him if he wanted to come.” Mia’s house was huge, and so she often texted Jordan within the house, rather than going to find her daughter.

  “I was going to get in the shower,” said Simon, pointing to the bathroom. “I can go, right?”

  Lorelei hesitated. Mia took the kids out for breakfast a lot. It was something she’d started doing as a kindness to Lorelei, because she knew Lorelei had trouble getting going in the mornings. Mia tended to do take them out at least once a week, sometimes twice. If Lorelei said no and insisted that Simon stay here, then Mia would wonder what was up, and Lorelei didn’t want to try to explain it to her. But she needed to talk to Simon. “I don’t know,” Lorelei said.

  And then her cell phone rang.

  Simon made a face. “You going to answer that?” He was sensitive to repetitive noises like the ringtone.

  Lorelei dug the phone out of her pocket and slammed it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” said Isaac on the other end of the phone.

  “Now’s not a good time,” said Lorelei. She moved the receiver away from her ear. “We’re going to talk, Simon. It’s important.”

  “After breakfast,then?” said Simon.

  Lorelei sighed.

  “I don’t care if it’s a bad time, I need to talk to you,” said Isaac.

  Lorelei held up a hand. “Fine, go, then. But we are going to talk later.”

  “What?” said Isaac.

  “Not you, Isaac. Simon.”

  Simon was shutting himself in the bathroom.

  “Are you with him right now?” said Isaac.

  Lorelei waved to Jordan, who was heading out the front door. “Yes, I’m with him. He’s my son. We live under the same roof.”

  “You know I’ve never so much as seen a picture of him?”

  Inside the bathroom, the sound of the shower came on, and she was glad that it would be loud enough to drown out her conversation. She didn’t want Simon to hear it.

  “There’s no reason for you to see him,” she snapped. “I already told you—”

  “That I’m not his father. Right. But we were dating when you got pregnant. We were talking about moving in together. You—”

  “Isaac, I’m not doing this right now. I’m hanging up.”

  “I know where you are.”

  Lorelei didn’t say anything. She took a shuddering breath, feeling unsteady.

  “I’ve known for a while,” he said. “I’m an FBI agent, and you weren’t hard to track down. There have been times when I’ve wanted to drive out and see you, but I’ve always talked myself out of it, because I wanted to respect your wishes. I told myself that I never had time for a family anyway, and that your running off was the best thing for everyone. But damn it, Lorelei, since you called me, I can’t stop thinking about—”

  “What do you want?”

  He was quiet.

  She waited. The shower stopped. Short shower for Simon. He must be in a rush to get out of here. Lorelei retreated into her room, shutting the door quietly. “What do you want, Isaac?” she repeated, whispering.

  “Meet me,” said Isaac. “I want to see you.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Then I’ll come to you. I’ll be at your doorstep in—”

  “Fine.” She clenched a hand into a fist. “Fine, fine. I’ll meet you.” She was still keeping her voice quiet so that Simon couldn’t hear. “When? Where?”

  Isaac told her the place. He wouldn’t be able to get there for two hours, he said. Which meant that he’d already left D.C. before he called her, because D.C. was at least a three-hour drive from Pineville. He’d already left home before calling her, so he’d been pretty confident in his ability to convince her to meet. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe he was working at some field office somewhere. She didn’t know anything about him these days.

  She hung up with Isaac, and Simon came to the bedroom door, dressed with his wet hair combed. “I’m leaving now,” he said. “I’m walking over to Jordan’s house.”

  Lorelei felt flustered. Everything was going wrong all at once. She felt like the new life she’d built for herself here was in danger. The foundations were cracking. So she only gave her son a hug and told him to be careful.

  After he left, she took a shower too. Then she got dressed, and she realized she was feeling nervous about this meeting with Isaac.

  She and Isaac had met when they were both working for the Bureau. He was a profiler just like her, and they used to go out after work together to blow off steam. Isaac said it got to him too. He had nightmares before she ever did. He seemed to take them in stride, though, as part of the job. As long as it all still bothered him, he said, then he wasn’t worried. When it got to the point where the violence didn’t faze him, then he’d be concerned.

  The relationship between them had been good. They were well matched
. They understood each other. They were similar people. Beyond work, they had shared interests. They liked the same kinds of screwball comedy movies and they were both fans of classic rock. If things had been different, they could have been happy together. They could have gotten married, and maybe bought a few cats, and gone on vacations to Florida. No kids for them, she didn’t think. They both knew they weren’t cut out for children with the kind of work they did, with the kind of people they were.

  But everything had gone wrong, and it had all been her fault.

  She wished she’d never started the affair. She’d been happy with Isaac.

  But she’d been so drawn to Cris. The other man. His name was Cris. And she hadn’t been able to resist his smile or the dimple in his cheek or his smooth, deep voice. His voice always made things inside her clench. Thinking about him now, she felt taut and vaguely sweaty. Damn him.

  She should have resisted Cris. If she’d been stronger, she would have. After all, she wasn’t the kind of person who approved of infidelity. She was the kind of person who swore that it was wrong and that it destroyed marriages and families. She had never considered the remote possibility that she could cheat on someone. She had been sure that she wasn’t even capable of such a thing.

  But that case she’d been working on at the time—the Undertaker case—had been so horrific, and she’d been hard pressed to make heads or tails of the profile. It was as if two different killers were choosing the victims, and she later learned that she wasn’t far off in that assessment.

  The killer was identified as being a serial murderer by the unique way he disposed of the bodies, which involved a kind of mummifying process. He then stored the bodies for months or even years—at the time they didn’t know where or how—before he would bury them. He did this by finding sites that were currently being landscaped, where holes had been dug to plant trees or large shrubs. He would dump the mummified bodies there. For years, no one caught him.

  And then one of the bodies was recovered.

  It was a girl, well, a woman. She had gone missing years ago, and when she was killed, she’d been about twenty.