The Ex Files

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  Well, their prayer group meeting was days away. In the meantime, she’d send up her own prayers to God. Because if He didn’t do anything else for her in this life, He needed to reveal a way that she could save her father from being dragged into this madness.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  VANESSA

  Vanessa glanced at the FedEx slip once again before she slid the package across the counter.

  “Hey, you forgot your receipt,” the man yelled.

  But Vanessa didn’t turn around. She strolled to her car and checked off her mental to-do list. The locks on her home had been changed. And now, this package would be delivered by ten in the morning. Vanessa glanced at her watch; that meant that in less than twenty-four hours the world would know.

  As she twisted her car through the streets of Culver City, she thought about Reed; now she understood. She’d been so upset that he’d left her such a simple message. She wanted so much more than just that piece of paper with those twenty words; she’d wanted twenty pages.

  But now that she was here, she realized why Reed had done it that way. At this point in life, all that you needed to say should have been already said. You couldn’t leave love in a note.

  Vanessa pressed the remote for her garage and drove inside. She’d considered using this space—just getting into the car and leaving it running. She could have fallen asleep that way. But her friends on the Internet told her that wouldn’t work if she had neighbors—neighbors who would try to save her.

  With slow steps, she entered her home and started in the living room, brushing invisible lint from the sofa and plumping the pillows. Satisfied, she moved into the kitchen and wiped crumbs that weren’t there from the sparkling granite counters.

  Before she walked up the steps she took another look around the living room. She and Reed had chosen their furniture with such care. This was good; her mother should get a fair price when she sold the furnishings. Upstairs she repeated the process, made sure every room was in order.

  Then she went into her bedroom.

  In the bathroom, she glanced at her reflection. Her hair was curled tight, just the way she liked it. And she wore Reed’s favorite dress, the red one with the small flowers. It was shorter than most of her others—this one came only inches below her knees. But this was the one Reed would want to see her in.

  She took a deep breath before she turned her attention to the bottles. This wasn’t like her dream. There weren’t hundreds of containers, only the eight that she’d laid out from that very first day. She’d been worried about whether she had enough. But last night, she’d told 4choice and Joynpain every prescription she had. And her friends assured her that she had enough.

  With the water running, she popped the first pills into her mouth. Then more. And more. Still more. It took almost five minutes to swallow every pill.

  Inside her bedroom, she smoothed the duvet before she lay down. She leaned back, closed her eyes, but then sat up suddenly. She reached for Reed’s photo and stared into his eyes for a moment before she brought her lips to his.

  Then she lay back down. Held his picture in her arms.

  She wanted her mind to be empty, but it was filled with thoughts: of her mother, Pastor Ford and the ladies of the prayer group. She thought about God. But most of all, her mind was filled with Reed.

  She closed her eyes. Now groggy. Now sleepy.

  And with a breath, she said good-bye to all, and hello to God.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  SHERIDAN

  Five days and counting.

  Sheridan had called Brock, but never left a message when his voice mail came on. Had he really meant what he said?

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Sheridan sat up from where she’d been lying on the couch. She hadn’t even heard Tori walk through the door. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  Tori dumped her bag at the stairs and then strolled into the living room. She leaned against the edge of the sofa. “Are you okay?”

  That was the question she was supposed to be asking her daughter. But here she was, laid out as if she were sick. It wasn’t physical—everything that ailed was in her mind. Brock’s last words that felt so much like good-bye. Quentin’s nightly calls that left her with no doubt that he wanted something more.

  She clutched her stomach; the familiar flutters had been with her more today.

  “Mom?”

  “I’m fine. I was just resting. How was school?”

  Tori shrugged. “The same, but I’m getting used to it. Nobody talks to me at lunch, so today I skipped it and helped Mr. Berg with a project.”

  “That’s a great idea, sweetheart.”

  Tori nodded. “Dad told me to ask the teachers if I could work with them during my breaks. But…it’s still hard, Mom. I’d rather be with my friends.”

  “I know.”

  Tori exhaled a deep sigh. “I just don’t know why everyone is making such a big deal. If I had kissed Benjamin, they wouldn’t be acting this way.”

  Sheridan didn’t like that image either.

  “And I’m not even gay. I don’t want to be gay.”

  Sheridan held out her arms and Tori rested inside her mother’s embrace. “It’s hard to be treated differently.”

  “I’m not different. But that doesn’t even matter because nobody believes anything I say.”

  Sheridan shook her head—mother and daughter in the same place. The people most important in their lives, Tori—her friends, Brock—her man, didn’t believe their words.

  “Sweetheart, all I can tell you is to just stay true to who you are, and then one day, no one will be able to resist you.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “I promise, if you just do you, they’ll come around. People have to come around to the truth.” Sheridan hoped that would be true for Brock, too. One day, he’d have to realize who she truly loved.

  “Okay, Mom.” She kissed Sheridan’s cheek before she trudged toward the door. Picking up her backpack, she said, “I’m getting used to being alone anyway,” and then she stomped up the stairs.

  Sheridan shook her head. “Oh, no,” she whispered. Now she was going to have to do something. Because there was no way she was going to allow her child ever to get used to being alone.

  Sheridan held her breath when her cell phone rang, just as she’d been doing since Saturday. But she lost her hope when she glanced at the screen. She gripped the steering wheel with one hand and pressed her earpiece.

  “Hey, Quentin.”

  “Hey. I called the house and Tori said you were on your way to church.”

  “Yeah, I have a meeting. What’s up?”

  “I was just checking on Tori. And on you.”

  She couldn’t get the image of him—and his lips moving toward her—from her mind. “Tori and I are fine,” she said as she sped down Centinela. “Tori’s actually handling this better”—she took a breath—“since you’ve been around.”

  “Great. You know what I’ve been thinking—we should go away this weekend. Drive down to Oceanside or up to Santa Barbara.”

  “What for?” She frowned.

  “I thought it would do Tori good to have a fun weekend away with her parents.”

  What? “I don’t think so.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Do you have plans with Brock?”

  “No. It’s just not a good idea…for us.”

  “I’m thinking this will be good for Tori. And it’ll give us a chance to be a family, even if it’s just for the weekend.” Sheridan opened her mouth, but before she could protest, Quentin added, “Just think about it. I’ll call you back.” He hung up before she said anything more.

  Sheridan flipped her cell just as she entered the parking lot. She looked at Hope Chapel, its welcoming stained glass windows, the oak doors, and she couldn’t remember a time when she wanted to be here more. She needed to pray—she needed some guidance from God.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  KENDALL
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  “Baby girl, please…call me back.”

  Kendall clicked off her cell phone and tossed it into the passenger seat. She’d dodged her father’s calls for four days now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard from her. She’d called, left messages when she was sure he wasn’t home. For the last few days, her messages were all the same.

  “Daddy, I’m still trying to decide. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Please don’t do anything until you hear from me.”

  But the only decision to be made was how to save her father from risking his health and life.

  She sighed with relief when she turned her Jeep into Hope Chapel’s parking lot. She’d thought about it for days now, and she was going to share the story—the entire story of how she didn’t have enough love in her heart to erase the hate—with her prayer partners.

  A small chuckle pushed through her lips. After Anthony and Sabrina, she’d vowed never to trust a single soul. But here she was with three women, almost strangers, who were pulling her slowly back to the side of believing in people again. Sheridan, even Asia. But especially, Vanessa. She had no doubt that Vanessa would have wonderful words, guiding words of wisdom that would help her do exactly what needed to be done.

  Kendall scurried toward the church doors anxious to get to the meeting.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  ASIA

  “Tracy, can you get the phone?” Asia yelled to the nanny who was downstairs with Angel. She glanced at the clock, she had only twenty minutes to get to the prayer meeting and the church was at least twenty-five minutes away. She slipped on her shoes, then searched inside her closet for her jacket.

  “Ms. Ingrum, telephone for you.”

  I know it’s for me, Asia wanted to scream. The only calls that come into this house are for me.

  But before she could tell the girl to take a message, Tracy yelled, “It’s a Ms. Thomas, from Child Protective Services.”

  Asia froze, but just for a moment, before she grabbed the telephone. Ms. Thomas introduced herself and said, “This is regarding the report you filed against Bobby Johnson. I’d like to schedule an appointment to speak with you about your report.” Asia could hear papers shuffling. “Would Monday morning at ten work for you?”

  “My daughter is in school at that time.”

  “That’s fine. I need to interview you first, and then we will bring her in. She’s five, right?”

  Asia swallowed. This is it. “Yes.” Asia reconfirmed her address, and as soon as she hung up, called her aunt. But after three calls—to her office, home, and cell—and no answer, Asia decided to catch up with her at church.

  She trotted down the stairs, kissed Angel good-bye and told Tracy to stay over in the guest bedroom.

  The valet had her car waiting; she jumped into her Beemer and sped down Wilshire Boulevard. This meeting was coming right on time. She needed the ladies, especially Vanessa, who would reassure her with comforting words. She had no doubt all of them would offer their support.

  It was just what she needed after living the three longest days of her life. It began on Monday morning, while Angel still slept, and her aunt handed her the telephone.

  Her hands—actually, every part of her—had shaken from the moment she made the call until the time she hung up. A potpourri of feelings had simmered inside as she answered the counselor’s questions:

  “The full name of the child?”

  She’d responded.

  “And the name of the person suspected of this abuse?”

  She took a breath before she said his name. “Bobby Johnson.” Paused, said a two-second silent prayer. “Angel’s father.”

  That revelation didn’t seem to come as any kind of surprise to the counselor. The questioning continued. It could have been a computer making the inquiries—no emotions, just facts.

  “What kind of abuse are you reporting?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is it physical, sexual?”

  She’d closed her eyes. Forgive me, although she wasn’t sure who she was asking for that pardon. “It’s…sexual, I believe. But I’m not sure.”

  “That’s all right,” the woman responded, her voice softer now. “Even if you just suspect, it’s always better to make the report. We’ll be able to determine if something is going on.” Then the woman’s hard voice returned. “Is the child in the home with the father?”

  The report had concluded that since “the child” was not in “the home” with “the father,” the “Johnson case” was deemed Priority Two.

  “That means,” the counselor explained, “that within the next few days, you will be contacted by a CPS caseworker who will go over the next steps with you.”

  Asia had asked, “How long will this process take?”

  “Depending on scheduling with all the parties involved, no more than a few weeks. Final reports are required to be filed within thirty days.” The counselor went on to advise Asia not to contact the father and to keep the child away from him.

  “If you have any problems with this, please call us back and we’ll contact the appropriate law enforcement agency.”

  “Law enforcement agency?”

  “The police, Ms. Ingrum. If you have any problems keeping the child away from her father, we will call the police.”

  That advice had made Asia tremble more.

  “You shouldn’t have any problems though,” the computer-voiced lady continued. “Mr. Johnson will be contacted and advised to stay away from you and the child.”

  She’d hung up the telephone, closed her eyes, and tried not to imagine Bobby’s reaction when he received that call.

  “It’s going to be all right,” her aunt had said, before she embraced her niece. Asia had stayed in her arms, needing the comfort.

  Now, as she turned into the church’s parking lot, she needed that comfort once again. First from the ladies in her prayer group; then afterward, she’d go home with her aunt.

  It was a small smile that she wore as she walked toward the Learning Center. It had taken Bobby ten years to ruin her life. But in just thirty days, he and his wife would be the ones destroyed. That fact gave her just a bit of the comfort she needed.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  ASIA

  Asia sauntered into the Learning Center. “Hey,” she said, and hugged Sheridan then turned to Kendall. She frowned as her eyes moved between the two. “You guys look like I feel.”

  Kendall slumped into her chair. “It’s been a long week.”

  “Just what I was thinking,” Asia said, sitting next to her. “Ladies, there’s something I really need to talk about tonight. Something that’s going on; I need a lot of prayer.”

  “Me too,” Kendall said. “I was hoping that I could get a little advice as well.”

  Sheridan said, “I actually have something I want to share with you guys, too. I need an opinion…a younger opinion.” She smiled at Asia. “When Vanessa gets here, we’ll get started. Sounds like it’ll be a long meeting.”

  “That’s fine,” Kendall said, making Sheridan raise her eyebrows just a bit. Kendall glanced at her watch. “Where’s Vanessa, anyway? She’s usually the first one here.”

  “And the last one to leave,” Asia kidded.

  “Here she comes now,” Sheridan said, turning toward the sound of footsteps.

  Their eyes widened with surprise when Pastor Ford walked into the room.

  Sheridan said, “Oh, Pastor, we thought you were Vanessa. Are you going to sit in with us?”

  And then Sheridan noticed it. The way Pastor Ford’s skin sagged with sadness. The way her eyes, usually sparkling so brightly, seemed dimmer, her gait stiff—she moved like she was in a trance.

  Asia stood. “Aunt Beverly, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Angel?”

  The pastor shook her head. “I…I have to talk to you ladies. Sit down.” She lowered herself into the chair next to her niece. “I have some very bad news.”

  Sheridan swallowed; Kendall and Asia did the sa
me.

  “It’s Vanessa.” She paused, the next words difficult to say. “She…Vanessa passed away today.”

  Asia’s tears were instant.

  “What happened?” Sheridan’s voice trembled.

  With a sniff, Pastor Ford unfolded a piece of paper from her pocket. “I found her this morning….”

  “You found her?” Asia asked, her pain apparent.

  Pastor Ford nodded. “The coroner estimated her death somewhere between yesterday evening and this morning.” She looked down at the paper she held. “She left a note.”

  “A note?” Asia frowned, and then her eyes widened with understanding. She gasped, “Oh, my God.”

  Sheridan whispered, “She committed suicide.” It wasn’t a question.

  Pastor Ford nodded. “I thought she was doing so well.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  Asia glanced at Kendall, who sat like a zombie, eyes wide, unblinking, just focused on the pastor. Asia took Kendall’s hand and squeezed it, but still Kendall didn’t move.

  Pastor Ford said, “I received a FedEx package this morning with a key…and a note addressed to her mother. And then, this note.”

  Asia couldn’t stop her tears. “Aunt Beverly, why did she do this?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed, and once again focused on the paper she held.

  “Pastor, do you want to share the letter with us?” Sheridan asked softly.

  “No!” Asia shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it. I can’t.”

  This time, Kendall squeezed her hand.

  The pastor said, “There’s a message for all three of you. But Asia, if you don’t want to—”

  “She wrote something—to us?” Asia asked.

  The pastor nodded. “A part of this note, although I have a feeling she wanted me to share the entire letter with you.” There was a moment of silence. When no one said anything, the pastor glanced at Asia, cleared her throat, then began in a voice thick with emotion, “To my dear pastor and the women I’ve come to love…thank you for making my last days so special. My homies from Compton, and you too, Sheridan, you all mean so much to me. Keep on doing what you do and no more boxing matches! And to my pastor, you have been the best spiritual leader anyone could have. I hope you won’t be too disappointed; I had to do this—for me. Please take care of my mother. She’ll need you. I have to warn you, she’ll probably grieve for the next ten years, but don’t give up on her. Thank you, for the love, thank you, for the hope.”