One Week To Live

by Joan Beth Erickson

  “Those red eyes and that blotchy face say otherwise,” Rita replied.

  “I’m okay.” She sucked in a breath.

  “Come here, girlfriend,” Rita said. Motioning her over, she gave her a quick, comforting hug.

  “I’ll be all right.” She shrugged out of Rita’s embrace.

  “When I talked to Brian after you’d fled to your apartment, he told me how upset you were.” She hesitated. “The guy’s stuck on you.”

  “Rita, I’m not in the mood for matchmaking talk right now.”

  “You could do worse,” she continued, fidgeting with a lock of red hair.

  “What’s up?” Something bothered Rita. She appeared nervous. “Being my babysitter wasn’t the only reason you came over.”

  “No,” Rita admitted. “He’s concerned with how personally you’re taking this case, way more than you did in San Diego.”

  “A boy died in the San Diego case in spite of my visions. Did he ever think that’s why I’m upset?” She was far more defensive than she should be.

  “Remember, you’re talking to Rita, the lady who knows your little secret. And I suspect Brian figured it out, too.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  Rita gnawed on her lower lip for a minute. “Uh…I think I kind of spilled the beans.”

  “You told him that Polly is my granddaughter, didn’t you?” she exclaimed.

  “Not in so many words, but I think he knows. He said something about you having a personal attachment to the little girl, and I didn’t deny it. Then he said something about the kidnapped victim being your granddaughter.”

  “And you didn’t deny that either.”

  “No,” Rita said, grimacing. “I’m sorry.”

  “Great,” she said, sagging onto the worn couch. “Right now he’s probably sitting in that damn condo of his pounding out a story for the world to read. That’s why he left here. It had nothing to do with Dunning and the note.”

  Rita perched on the chair opposite her. “I don’t think he’d do that without talking to you first.”

  “You don’t know Brian. He’s never asked permission before.” She began to nervously shred her balled-up tissue.

  “The fact that Polly is your granddaughter is far more personal than the previous articles he’s written. The man possesses integrity. Something not found in many men today. I should know. I’ve seen enough flakes in my time. You should trust him.”

  “I haven’t trusted any man in a long time and there’s no reason to trust Brian now. He keeps telling me he won’t write about me and then he does.”

  “If that’s the case, which I don’t think it is, and he does write that article, your daughter will be reading about her relationship to you in tomorrow’s paper.” Rita stood and joined her on the couch. Removing the shredded tissue, she took both of Angie’s hands in her own. “Tell her before he does.”

  “But it’s the wrong time.”

  “I suspect, knowing you, there will never be a right time,” Rita said.

  “Damn you, Rita. My life’s complicated enough.”

  “Again, I’m sorry. Brian seemed so upset, so in need of answers. When he asked, I couldn’t deny his suspicions. You know me; I’ve never been one to keep secrets.”

  Her friend looked so forlorn. She shouldn’t have told her. But perhaps the truth had been hammering to get out for awhile. It was time to reveal the truth to the one person who should know: her daughter. Was she brave enough to face what she’d avoided for so long? She wasn’t sure.

  She sucked in a deep breath. “The damage has been done. She shouldn’t read something so personal in the paper. I’ll tell her.”

  “I’d hoped you’d say that. Here’s the name of the hotel where she’s staying and her room number.” Rita handed her a piece of paper.

  “How’d you get that?” The information put her one step closer to the moment of truth she’d both dreamed of and dreaded for some time.

  “I have my sources,” Rita smiled mischievously. “I’ve been in this town a long time and I know many people who owe me favors.”

  She took the information. “Thanks. Now scat, so I can get my thoughts together. Figure out exactly how I’m going to approach this.”

  Saying goodbye to Rita, she closed the door and went into her bedroom. Opening her closet, she studied her clothes. What should a woman wear to tell a stranger that she was her biological mother?

  The more she studied her wardrobe, the more she worried about the meeting. She suspected it might not be the happy mother/daughter reunion she’d always hoped for.

  ****

  Dropping the clue off at Dunning’s office, Brian made his escape and headed to Angie’s. He needed to learn the truth about her and Susan. For him, the woman’s emotional outburst said more than words could. He knew Susan was adopted and her adoptive parents were both dead. Was she Angie’s biological daughter? Rita hadn’t outright said so, but she hadn’t denied it either.

  Skirting the neon glitz and traffic of the Strip, he took the less busy route across town, passing street after street of small, flat-roofed houses. Considering the current circumstances, it became more and more difficult to be objective enough to do his job. Write only what he saw and not what he felt. Report the news but not make the news. That was his credo.

  But he couldn’t adhere to that anymore, which was frustrating. If he could, he’d be back in his condo writing the latest story about Angie and her daughter and granddaughter after verifying the facts. The emotional impact of that article would bring tears to many readers’ eyes and maybe lead to an important turn in the case. Only one day remained before Polly might die.

  The problem was he cared too much for Angie. Because he did he questioned whether he should even write the story. When he sat down at his computer this time, his personal and professional lives warred with each word he wanted to write. This happened only once before in his career, the day his own son was abducted.

  Thankful to find a parking space in front of her apartment building, he hurried through the courtyard past the swimming pool. A pool he’d never look at in the same way. He could still see the doll even though it was gone.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he didn’t expect to confront her ex-husband at the top. The man paced back and forth in front of her place, his impatience obvious. Thankfully, she wasn’t home.

  The Internet photos he’d seen of her ex didn’t convey the ferocity of the man with his dark hair and eyes. From what he’d read, the man used intimidation as part of his game. Well Brian could play at that game, too.

  “Who are you?” he questioned, glaring at Brian.

  “Who I am is none of your business.” Remembering what she told him about her ex-husband’s treatment of her, his anger grew. He itched to punch the smugness from the man’s face.

  He surveyed Brian from head to toe, apparently displeased with what he saw. “I think it is my business since you’re gracing my wife’s doorstep.”

  “Your ex-wife and you’re the one who shouldn’t be here. There’s a restraining order against you.”

  “The restraining order was good in San Diego, but it isn’t here.”

  “It wouldn’t take long for me to arrange another one,” Brian countered, his temper at the boiling point. “I’ve friends in the police department.”

  The man’s scowl deepened. “I have friends, too. Money buys a lot in this town.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “Pending business deals.”

  “When do you plan on leaving?” he asked.

  “Not until I get my wife back.”

  “She’s your ex-wife and she wants nothing to do with you.”

  “We’ll see about that. What I want I always get and I want Angela back. Once I’ve talked to her, she’ll see it my way.”

  “She’s not one of your business deals,” he fired back, becoming more and more irritated with the man’s attitude.

  “I’ll be back. Giving up isn’t in m
y vocabulary.” He started down the stairs then stopped. “Better say your goodbyes. She won’t be here much longer. Now that I’ve found her, she won’t be escaping me again.”

  ****

  The rumbling thunder rattled the house’s windows, but he didn’t take much notice. Thank goodness, he’d be rid of this place soon. He’d always disliked thunderstorms, but he’d never been afraid of them. That fear was reserved for kids and animals, not him.

  A flash of lightning briefly lit the room. He grabbed his duffle and started to pack it making sure he commandeered the rope he’d soon need. Tomorrow was the seventh day. He smiled. He’d known from the start they’d never find him or the little girl. He was more clever than they were, but he grew tired of the game. It was time to end it. Zipping up the duffle, he set it by the front door. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he composed the last of his clues.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thursday afternoon

  When she arrived at her daughter’s hotel, she used the house phone to call the woman’s room. She now waited in the coffee shop for Susan to come down, her heart rate increasing with each passing moment. The time had come and she wasn’t ready, but would she ever be? For something to do while she waited, she grabbed the table’s cloth napkin and began twisting it.

  The waitress, dressed in a well-starched pink uniform, rushed over to take her order. Angie asked for coffee, nothing more. She wasn’t hungry. The waitress couldn’t help but notice the balled up napkin. Grabbing it, she removed it from the table and brought her a fresh one with the coffee, smiling as she did.

  Angie glanced nervously at the coffee shop entrance while families nearby munched on huge hamburgers. The restaurant’s circus-like atmosphere catered to children. Decorations included a working merry-go-round with colorful carousel animals in the far corner of the room.

  Looking toward the entrance again, she spotted Susan. Her heart skipped a beat and her throat grew dry. This was a bad idea, she thought. Then she remembered Brian’s possible pending newspaper article. It might be a bad idea, but it couldn’t be avoided.

  Standing, she forced a smile and waved. When her daughter approached, she saw that she’d been crying. She fought the overwhelming desire to reach out and hug her. That’s what mothers did for daughters in pain, but she’d never been this woman’s mother.

  “Thank you for meeting with me.” she said, realizing how formal she sounded, like greeting a stranger. But the woman was a stranger.

  “Where’s Brian? On the phone I thought you said he wished to talk to me.”

  The waitress arrived and asked Susan if she wanted anything. She didn’t.

  “He couldn’t make it. A last minute meeting came up.” She hated lying, but she couldn’t think of any other way to lure her daughter from her room.

  “There’s no reason to talk to you. Brian’s the one who’s been telling my story. You’re a stranger. Why would you want to see me?”

  Sitting face to face with her daughter, she didn’t know how to tackle what she needed to tell her. Blurting it out didn’t seem right.

  “So if you don’t expect Brian anytime soon, I’ll be going. I don’t want to be far from the phone in case Special Agent Dunning calls.” She hesitated. “I was so upset when I left San Diego, I forgot my cell phone.”

  “I see.” The conversation was dissolving into mindless chitchat and Susan was about to flee.

  “The Special Agent assures me they’ll find my little girl.” Her daughter choked back tears, and Angie fought to keep her own emotions in check.

  “He’s experienced with these kind of cases.” She hesitated and blew her nose. “I’m happy he’s sticking to the facts he’s gathering rather than listening to your psychic visions. No offense, but I heard they didn’t work in San Diego. I don’t want my daughter to suffer the same fate as that little boy.”

  She struggled to ignore the stinging comment. Coming from her daughter, the hurt went deep.

  “It must be difficult being alone right now,” she said in an attempt to change the subject. “Do you have any family that could be with you?”

  Susan shook her head. “No, both my parents are dead, and I’m an only child. With no siblings, there are no aunts, uncles, or cousins. All I have is my sweet Polly.”

  Did her daughter know she was adopted? She hadn’t mentioned birthparents. Was she about to destroy a truth Susan believed all her life? Did she think her adoptive parents were her blood relatives?

  Her next words dispelled this concern. “I should clarify that my mom and dad were my adoptive parents. Since they loved me and raised me, I consider them my real parents. The people who gave me away have no right to that title.”

  Her harsh words stabbed at her. Again she thought about not telling Susan, but once more remembered Brian’s possible article.

  “You’ve never wondered who your real parents are?”

  “No. Why should I?” Susan said.

  The knife twisted further into Angie’s heart.

  “I need to go,” Susan said, standing.

  “Wait. You might think my visions are worthless, but I’ve seen your daughter in them.”

  Susan sat back down, a worried frown creasing her forehead. “What did you see?”

  “I’ve seen the number ‘four’ and a house with a high wall. In my visions she’s tied up and lying on a bed.”

  “Tied up,” Susan exclaimed. “My poor baby.”

  She fought the emotions created by the mental picture she’d just described. “The number ‘four’ could be part of a house number or…”

  “Her age,” her daughter replied. “She’s about to turn four. Her birthday is next week. I’ve a party planned with a clown and cake and…” Her emotion-filled voice trailed off as she observed a group of waiters and waitresses gathered around a neighboring table. They sang happy birthday to a little girl about Polly’s age. They then handed the child a bunch of colorful balloons and a piece of birthday cake.

  “I’d planned on lots of balloons and an ice cream cake for Polly.” Tears streamed down Susan’s face.

  She reached across the table and patted her daughter’s hand. “She’ll be at that party. She’ll receive those balloons and cake.”

  “This may sound crazy, but I know she’s alive,” Susan said. “I haven’t seen her in my dreams, but I’ve heard her calling me.”

  “Did you ever think that you possess psychic abilities, too?” Was this the opportunity she needed?

  “No. It’s a mother’s intuition at work. I have to go now.”

  Angie sucked in a breath knowing she couldn’t put it off any longer. “Before you do, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Make it quick.”

  How could she make something like this quick? Blurting it out still didn’t seem right.

  “Susan, a mother’s intuition has nothing to do with what you’ve been experiencing. That psychic ability comes from me. You inherited it.”

  “What are you talking about? We’re not related.”

  “Yes, we are.” Here goes, she thought. “I’m your mother.”

  Susan vehemently shook her head. “My mother’s dead.”

  “I’m your birthmother.”

  Susan stared at her for a minute, skepticism filling her eyes. “You’re crazy. What makes you think I’d believe that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  Susan shook her head. “All I know about you is that you’re some kind of phony psychic. What exactly is your scam?”

  Angie stared at her in shock. Others doubted her and called her a charlatan. The fact that her daughter thought that cut deep. “There’s no scam. I am your biological mother.”

  “How dare you call yourself my mother? My mother raised me, loved me. Hugged me when I skinned my knee. Shared all my problems growing up. I need her right now, but she’s gone.” Susan’s voice quivered with emotion.

  “But I’m here now.” She reached across the table to take her daughter’s hand. Sus
an pulled away. The rejection hurt. “I’m the woman who loved you for nine months before giving birth. I held you in my arms just once before they took you away from me. When they did my heart broke. Although I haven’t seen you since that day, I’ve always carried my love for you in my heart.”

  “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have tossed me away.” Her daughter once more stood up. “And don’t give me that crap about desiring a better life for me. I’m a single mother who’s struggling, but I’d never give my Polly away.”

  “Don’t go,” Angie pleaded. This wasn’t going well, but hadn’t she always suspected it might go badly? Wasn’t that why she hadn’t approached her daughter before this? Yes, she’d abandoned her baby for the right reasons at the time. She’d given her away to strangers. Strangers she’d hoped would give her a good life. So why should Susan acknowledge her as her mother? There was no reason to.

  “I hope you don’t expect me to embrace you. You’re a stranger,” Susan said. “A person I don’t need in my life.”

  Susan’s words stung deeply. “But you’re my daughter and that kidnapped little girl is my granddaughter.”

  “Stay away from me and Special Agent Dunning. Let him do his job.” She began to walk away then turned back. “Even if you really are my birthmother, don’t expect to be my daughter’s grandmother. Her grandmother is dead.”

  She stared at her departing daughter too upset to go after her. It wouldn’t do any good. She deserved to be treated the way she had. The glimmer of hope she’d harbored since she’d found her daughter flickered out leaving her with nothing but emptiness.

  She paid the bill for her untouched coffee at the register and made her way out into the casino’s din. Nearby, slot machine bells rang and lights flashed. Joyous shouts heralded another scored jackpot. There’d be no jackpots for her, no winning. She felt more alone than she ever had before.

  Needing to escape the casino, she rushed toward the exit colliding with an old lady en route. Passing the woman, an uneasy feeling pricked at her. She looked back, but the lady disappeared into the crowd. She briefly thought of the old woman on the bus before venturing onto the Strip and into the daytime heat.