Cristina

by Jake Parent

  By then, Jack was standing behind her, bushy eyebrows furrowed.

  She slipped the key into the lock, turned it, and slammed the door open. Before entering, she slipped her knife from her back pocket and into her palm.

  “Anise!? Anise!? Jacklyn? Is anyone here?”

  There was no answer, but Cristina heard sounds coming from upstairs. She bolted immediately for the second floor.

  Climbing the last few steps, she heard a shriek from behind the closed bathroom door.

  Her adrenaline shot through the roof.

  But she soon realized that the sound hadn’t been one of fear or pain. She inched toward the bathroom and heard more noises. Giggles. She also heard the tinny sound of music playing in the background.

  Cristina pushed open the door.

  “Mamma!” Anise said from behind a face full of frothy bubbles. “I have a beard!”

  “Hey, Cristina,” Jacklyn said nonchalantly. “You’re home early. We’re just finishing up with bath time and are about to put on our PJs. Huh, Anise?”

  Cristina was not amused.

  “I was trying to call and no one answered.”

  “Oh, yah. Sorry. I had some beats going on my phone. I guess it automatically shuts off the ringer. You aren’t mad are you?”

  Cristina was mad, and it took all her energy not to scream at the poor teenager, who hadn’t really done anything wrong.

  “Everything OK?” Jack said from the top of the stairs. He walked up, smiling when he saw that it was. “Oh, good. Everyone seems to be in fine condition. But what’s that horrible noise? It sounds like aliens trying to communicate through a bunch of random sounds.”

  “Dubstep, man,” Jacklyn said, adding a swirly little dance move for emphasis.

  Cristina couldn’t believe she’d ever been that young.

  56

  Casey arrived just after Jacklyn’s sister came by to pick her up.

  Cristina felt so much better with him there.

  A friendly but serious male cop was now parked near the bottom of the driveway. He said he would stay there as long as he could, then gave Cristina his card in case she needed to call.

  Jack kindly offered to cook dinner.

  An hour later, they were sitting at the kitchen table, digging into juicy pork chops, crisp green beans, and sweet potatoes so creamy they didn’t even need butter.

  “You’re so amazing, Jack,” Cristina said.

  “Yah, this is pretty damn good,” Casey agreed.

  Jack sat stroking his grey beard, a little red-faced and a lot happy. He sipped a glass of wine, the last of a bottle he’d brought. To their comments, he waved one hand and bowed his head.

  “You guys are too kind,” he said. “Alas, I’m but your humble servant.”

  The guys did the dishes while Cristina tucked Anise into bed.

  Cristina checked the windows for a third time.

  “Mamma?”

  “What is it, baby?”

  “Is Jack Santa Claus?”

  Cristina burst into laughter. It felt good after the tension of the evening.

  “No, chica. He just looks a little like him, that’s all. What story do you want to read tonight?”

  They picked out Where the Wild Things Are and read it together. Anise sounded out some of the words. Cristina handled the rest. When they finished story time, she kissed her daughter on the forehead and told her she loved her more than anything in the world.

  “Love you too, mamma.”

  Anise smiled and then rolled over, her favorite stuffed octopus tucked under her arm.

  Back downstairs, Cristina thanked Jack for all his help, and for being such a great neighbor. She also told him what Anise said about him looking like Santa Claus, which reddened his cheeks even more than the wine.

  He said, “I believe he and I are distant cousins of some sort.”

  Then he put both hands on Cristina’s shoulders and added, “I’m only a stone’s throw away. You call me any time if you need anything at all. Don’t trust those cops to watch out for you, either.”

  He shook hands with Casey and said, “Take good care of these girls. I’ve grown quite fond of them.”

  “I will, Jack,” Casey said. “Thanks again.”

  57

  After checking on Anise one last time, Cristina finally allowed herself to brush her teeth and crawl into bed with Casey. He was still above the blankets, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. His tattooed body looked like a statue as he sat with one hand resting behind his head, the other thumbing through the latest edition of Surfer magazine.

  “She’s going to be fine,” he said without looking up. “We’re right down the hall. Everything is locked. You’ve got that knife of yours. And me. We’ve got the cops close by. And Jack watching out his window, I’m sure. Anthony would be pretty dumb to try anything.”

  Cristina jumped out of bed and walked to the window. She cracked open the blinds and saw nothing but the blackness of the backyard and the woods.

  “I hope you’re right,” she said. “I don’t think you quite understand what a psycho he is though. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up here in the middle of the night with a can of gasoline and set the whole place on fire. Just to hurt me.”

  Casey put down his magazine, sat up, and pulled her into bed, wrapping her curvy body into his arms.

  “I know what you went through with him. But you don’t have to worry, Cristina. Everything will be OK. I promise.”

  He kissed her neck and caressed the edge of her ear. His hand traced its way down her spine to the small of her back, resting at the edge of her scars.

  For a moment she relaxed, giving herself over to his touch.

  Then she moved to get up again, saying, “I’m just going to check on her once more.”

  “No.”

  He grabbed her before she could stand, bringing her down to a sitting position on the bed. “You can’t let him win by scaring you so bad you’re jumping at your own shadow.”

  She wanted to agree. It was so unfair that Anthony could still cause her this kind of pain and sorrow.

  “I guess you’re right. It’s just . . .”

  “What?” he asked patiently. “What is it? You can tell me.”

  “Well, it’s kind of morbid. But I guess I just really don’t know what the hell I would do if I lost Anise.” She felt a sting in her eyes. Without looking at him, she grabbed one of Casey’s hands and squeezed it. “All I know is that, when the judge took those test results out of that envelope and said I was positive for meth, my first thought was . . . it was that . . . if they took her away, I was going to kill myself.”

  She turned to him, expecting to see judgement or anger in his eyes.

  There was neither.

  Instead, he took her by the shoulders and gently lowered her onto the bed. His blue eyes made her feel whole. He smiled his crooked grin and kissed her. First her nose. Then her lips. Her chin. Her neck. He slid her shirt up over her head and moved his lips down to her naked breasts. First the left nipple, then the right. The sides. The sensitive skin underneath. His stubble had grown a few days and was soft against her stomach as he kissed the skin below her belly button. It tickled wonderfully when he reached the sensitive spot just below her hipbone. She thrust upward in anticipation. His fingers slipped under the red cloth of her panties, slowly pulling them down her legs. He then pressed his lips against the inside of her knee and worked his way down her thigh. One soft kiss at a time.

  Soon, her mind and body were in ecstasy, forgetting all the frustrations of the world, if only for a little while.

  58

  That night, their love was sensual and slow. There was no rush. No pressure of feeling like they needed to squeeze every ounce of joy out of the experience. There was only each other, and the unspoken faith that tomorrow would bring another chance.

  Despite all the craziness, all the fear that somewhere out there her psychopath ex-husband might be plotting his revenge, Cristina fel
t like she, Casey, and Anise, were a unit.

  A family.

  That’s why it seemed only natural to use that moment to finally ask Casey if he would move in.

  Her only fear was that he might get scared. Say no.

  In her mind, she’d built up an entire scenario in which she asked him and he laughed at her, before walking out of her life altogether. It wasn’t rational, and she figured love never really was, but it was what she felt.

  With their two naked bodies still intertwined, connected, him on top, eyes locked, little bursts of pleasure shooting through both their bodies, she finally worked up the courage.

  “Move in with me, Casey,” she said.

  His always hard-to-read face gave her nothing for a few horribly tense moments.

  Then he smiled. Not just the grin, either. He seemed happily caught off-guard.

  “Alright,” he said casually, rolling onto his back.

  “Alright?”

  She laughed and hit him with a pillow.

  59

  Before going to sleep, Cristina checked Anise once more, smiling at the way her daughter’s mouth rested half-open, a drop of drool working its way down her cheek.

  Although she rarely did so, Cristina popped a couple of Benadryl to help her sleep. When she took it, she usually didn’t dream, and she didn’t think her nerves could stand another trip to the closet, the woods, or any abandoned buildings.

  She just wanted to rest.

  By the time she returned to her . . . to their room, Casey was snoring. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and crawled over him, onto her side of the bed.

  Despite everything, she felt safer than she had in years.

  60

  The morning sun peeked through the blinds that Cristina had forgotten to close, sending a piercing beam directly into her face. The light blinded her when she opened her eyes. Sleepy hands waved to block it.

  Beside her, Casey was still snoring. Not a deep, rumbling bear-noise. More like the sound of a distant motorboat. It was actually kind of cute.

  With care not to wake him, she quietly climbed over his body and out of bed. She closed the blinds, and then checked herself out in the mirror, smiling at the puffiness of her sleepy face, feeling wonderful about life.

  Before going downstairs to start breakfast, she peeked into Anise’s room and saw her daughter lumped under the blankets.

  Cristina’s feet lightly pattered down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

  The bright sunlight coming through the sliding glass door seemed saturated with positive energy.

  It was going to be a great day.

  She gathered what she needed to make pancakes from scratch, being careful not to make any more noise than she had to. Eggs, milk, butter, and real maple syrup from the refrigerator. Flour from the pantry. Plates and cups from the cabinet. Silverware from the drawer.

  The metal mixing-bowl was the hardest part. After Anise had used it for Cheerios, Cristina started storing the bowl on a higher shelf. She could now barely reach it herself.

  Just when she thought she had it in her grasp, the bowl slipped from her fingers and tumbled toward the kitchen counter – BANG! – and then to the floor – BANG! BANG! BANG! The bowl rolled on its edge, coming to rest with the open side down, spinning a few times in a swirl of sound that lessened with each rotation.

  “Whoops,” she said out loud with a slightly evil laugh. “Time to get up I guess.”

  When the batter was mixed, the pan hot and ready, Cristina walked to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Breakfast time you lazy bums!”

  She was taking off the first golden-brown pancake when she heard heavy footsteps plodding down the stairs.

  “Hey handsome,” she told Casey as he walked into the kitchen and kissed her with half-open eyes.

  “Coffee,” he said. “Must have coffee.”

  She poured him a cup and kissed him again. He held her close.

  Looking lovingly into his eyes, she said, “Your breath stinks.”

  Casey blew a stream of hot air into her face and she wiggled away.

  He stuck out his tongue.

  “Where’s the princess?” he asked, setting his steaming cup on the counter and leaning in to smell the pancakes.

  “Probably snoring away still,” Cristina said. “Another thing you two have in common, by the way.”

  Casey grinned and said, “Mamma’s feeling feisty this morning.”

  “Rawr.” She clawed the air with her hand and then kissed him on the tip of his nose. “Why don’t you go wake her up for me.”

  He saluted. “Yes ma’am.” Then turned to go.

  “And brush your teeth!” she added as his feet thudded back up the stairs.

  “Never!”

  Cristina flipped another pancake onto a plate, then poured a big circle of batter for a face and two small ones for ears. She was about to add chocolate chips for the eyes, nose, and mouth when she heard Casey yell.

  “CRISTINA!”

  His voice told her something definitely wasn’t right.

  She turned off the stove and went running down the hallway and up the stairs.

  “What?” she yelled on her way into Anise’s room. “What is it?”

  “She’s gone.”

  A hurricane of emotions hit Cristina. Confusion, sadness, loss, furious anger, all wrapped into a storm that pounded her so hard she could barely breathe. If Casey hadn’t been there, she probably would have passed out and hit the floor like dead weight. As it was, he barely got her to sit on the edge of Anise’s bed, next to the lump under the blankets she now knew was only the girl’s pillow.

  “OK,” he said. “Let’s not panic. First, we need to look outside. Maybe she just wandered.”

  “Yah,” Cristina responded blankly. “Yah, maybe.”

  But she knew that wasn’t it. Since the second day they’d been in the house, when Cristina questioned Anise about going outside without permission, her daughter hadn’t done it again. She was a good girl and didn’t need to be told more than once.

  No, she was gone. And he took her.

  She was going to fucking kill him this time.

  61

  There was no sign of Anise outside. No evidence of forced entry. No footprints leading away from the house. No note. Nothing valuable had been taken. The only other thing missing was the stuffed octopus Anise loved so much. The doors were all still locked.

  The girl had simply vanished.

  Cristina told all this to a fat, uniformed cop as they sat in the living room. He slowly wrote everything down in a little blue notebook, not seeming to be in any particular hurry.

  “You want me to get you some tea or something, pal?” Casey finally said.

  The cop looked up as if to politely decline, then realized the heavily-tattooed man pacing the room was being sarcastic.

  He responded, “Sir, I need to get the details correct so we can figure out what happened. The last thing we want to do is rush off in the wrong direction.”

  For a moment, Casey looked ready to tear the man’s head off.

  “Right,” Cristina interrupted, taking some of the tension out of the air. “We’re just really worried is all. We’d like to get out looking for her as soon as possible.”

  After hanging up with 9-1-1, Cristina had called everyone she knew. First her uncle, who was now on his way with Aba. Then Officer Washburn, who said she would do everything she could to help. Then Jack. He didn’t answer, probably because he was still sleeping off the bottle of wine he drank. She left a message. Then Dan. He was on his way with Jordan. Cristina had been debating calling Agent Canfield when the uniformed cop knocked at the door.

  “Well,” the officer said in his slow voice, “our man down at the bottom of the hill didn’t see anyone come up the driveway.” He paused. Cristina could have sworn he was fighting off a yawn. “We’ll have additional officers here in a few minutes. And a detective. We can start looking around more then. But first, let’s
try to get our ducks in a row, shall we? Now, you say that you think the father did this?”

  “Yes.”

  Cristina explained the situation with Anthony. By the time she was done, Jordan and Dan were at the front door.

  “Sorry it took us so long,” Jordan said, though it had only been about thirty minutes. Still, the sentiment made Cristina feel supported.

  Dan was in his disheveled street clothes.

  The cop looked at him with more than a hint of disgust.

  Cristina cringed.

  “OK,” she said, standing. “I’m no detective, but if your guy was watching the driveway all night, chances are that Anthony went out the backdoor and up the trail.”

  “Right,” the cop said, tapping his pencil against his teeth. “Only, the officer wasn’t there the whole night. He did have to leave for a call around 3 AM. He was gone for about an hour.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Casey blurted out. “So then, for all we know, Anise could be hundreds of miles away by now.”

  The cop didn’t have an immediate answer and Casey threw up his hands.

  “OK,” he said, springing into action. “You and you.” Pointing to Jordan and Dan. “Let’s hit the trail and see if we can find anything. We’ll go as far as the quarry and then reevaluate from there.”

  They were out the door before the cop could protest.

  The officer flipped through his notepad, snorting dismissively.

  He asked, “Anything or anyone else you think we should look into, Ms. Rodriguez?”

  He was now staring at her chest. She hadn’t yet changed out of the thin shirt she slept in. The one that showed her dark nipples.

  Clenching her breasts with her forearms, she had to fight off an urge to punch him in his face.

  Noticing he was caught, the cop looked back at his notes.

  “Yah,” Cristina said. “The guy next door maybe. I haven’t seen him around in months. I think he’s been living out in the forest or something. But he seems like kind of a nut-job.”