by T. K. Leigh
She glanced at the clock, wondering how long she had been asleep, seeing it was already after seven in the morning. Her chest grew tight thinking about all the time she had wasted. It was selfish to sleep so soundly and comfortably when she should have been doing something…anything.
Jumping out of bed, she dashed into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face. After putting on clean clothes and pulling her hair back, she headed downstairs in search of an update as to what was going on.
The smell of bacon met her as she drew near the kitchen. Agent Long sat on a stool at the large eat-in island in the center of the room as Colleen fried bacon, whipped up some scrambled eggs, and toasted bread. There was already a plate of blueberry muffins, as well as trays upon trays of different kinds of Christmas cookies. Olivia wondered if Colleen had slept at all, or if she simply stayed in the kitchen, baking and cooking away her heartache.
“Olivia, dear,” Colleen said when she saw her enter. She stopped what she was doing and walked up to wrap her arms around her. After a longer than usual hug, she pulled back and met her eyes. Olivia could see her pain, her fear, her unease. She looked like a woman doing everything to keep the pieces together. “How are you holding up?”
“Okay, Colleen.”
“Okay?” She squeezed her arm, holding her gaze.
“Okay,” Olivia repeated, drawing in a shaky breath. Would she ever be anything more than okay again? “Is Alex here?”
“No, he’s not,” Agent Long answered in a curt tone. Olivia whipped her head around to face her.
“Sore subject, dear,” Colleen murmured into Olivia’s ear.
“He left the house earlier this morning…without my approval.”
“Where did he go?” Olivia pushed. “And I didn’t realize we needed your approval to leave. It was my understanding we could come and go as we pleased, that your job here was to simply answer any questions we may have or to offer us support, not to restrict our movements.”
“I also have to ensure your safety, particularly after last night’s ransom demand that could have led to another abduction.”
Olivia crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You really think you can do a better job at keeping my husband safe than he can?” she scoffed. “Not likely. Where did he go?”
Agent Long flipped the page of the newspaper. “He went out on his own, even after Agent Moretti warned him not to interfere, and is following up on a lead received earlier this morning.”
“A lead?” Olivia perked up.
“Yes, Mrs. Burnham,” Agent Long replied with a heavy sigh. “It’s our general rule of thumb to investigate leads before involving the family so we don’t raise any hopes.” She glanced up from her paper and met Olivia’s rapt gaze. “But we received a call from someone who said they recognized the man in the sketch. I wouldn’t put much faith into it just yet. It could be nothing.”
“But it could be something, couldn’t it?” Olivia asked, holding the one glimmer of hope she had left.
“Perhaps,” Agent Long agreed, returning her attention to this morning’s Boston Globe and sipping her coffee.
A million thoughts racing through her head, Olivia grabbed her cell out of her pocket and dialed Alexander, holding her breath as she listened to the call connect.
“Olivia,” he answered in hushed tones after two rings.
“Alex,” she breathed. “What’s going on? I woke up and—”
“I’m in Roxbury,” he interrupted. “One of my agents overheard a conversation at the command center about a possible lead on Maleek’s location. Moretti had no intention of telling me. Thankfully, my agent knew enough to come over and inform me about what was going on.”
“And what’s that?”
He sighed. Olivia could sense his frustration through the phone. After living with someone for so long, you could anticipate their emotions with little warning.
“I still don’t know, Olivia. A clerk at a convenience store believes the man living across the street is Maleek. Just after Melanie’s abduction, he saw him pull up with another person, then carry something heavy around back.”
Olivia gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “She’s there?”
“We haven’t been inside yet, but she’s not here. No one is.”
“How can you know she’s not there?” she asked urgently. “Why haven’t you been inside?”
“Based on what happened at the press conference, Moretti is using an overabundance of caution and wants the bomb squad to send in a robot to secure the house before anyone goes inside. In the meantime, they used a thermal cam and there were no heat signatures, although the technology isn’t exactly accurate when going through walls of a house.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, his words not registering.
“Based on the readings off the camera, they don’t believe there’s anyone inside the house, but they want to wait to enter it until they’re sure it’s not rigged in any way. If this is Maleek’s house, it stands to reason there could be explosive material here that he used to make the bomb Rayne carried into the press conference. Regardless, there’s no guarantee the man the clerk saw is actually Maleek or that Melanie was ever here. Until we can get inside, we won’t know anything for certain.”
“But the second you get inside, you’ll call and let me know what you find, right?”
“Of course.”
“Okay.” Olivia sighed, defeated. It felt like this was all one big waiting game. She didn’t know how much longer she could survive without hearing her daughter’s laugh, without feeling her small arms wrapped around her.
“The bomb squad just got on scene,” Alexander said urgently, an audible commotion in the background — shouting, trucks driving by. “They’re going to jam all the cell phones in the area to be on the safe side. I had Martin stay at the house. If you need to go anywhere, even at the FBI’s request, he’ll take you. Do you understand?”
Olivia closed her eyes, nodding. “Yes. Just be careful.”
“Always,” he said in a sweet voice. “I love you, Olibia.”
She clutched the phone tighter, closing her eyes briefly. Listening to Alexander’s breathing, she could almost picture him right beside her, whispering those words. In the midst of everything going on, that was exactly what she needed to hear to make her heart full…the nickname for her that belonged to him and only him.
“And I love you, Alex. Hurry home.” She remained on the line, only to be met with dead air moments later. Checking the screen, she saw the call had disconnected.
With a heavy heart, she returned her phone to her pocket and lowered herself onto one of the barstools, staring out the window at the bleakness surrounding her.
“Hungry, dear?” Colleen asked, placing a plate of eggs, toast, and fruit in front of her.
“Thanks, Colleen, but…” She pushed the dish away.
“I know eating is the last thing you probably feel like doing right now, but it’ll make you feel better. Believe me.”
She met her mother-in-law’s bloodshot eyes. As much as Olivia couldn’t stomach the thought of eating, she did it for Colleen. She needed to feel wanted, as if she were doing something to bring Melanie back, even though they were all completely helpless at the moment, Alexander included.
A stiff silence fell over the house on that Sunday morning as Olivia pushed her breakfast around her plate. She kept looking out the window, hoping to see Alexander drive up. Colleen was just as worried, but did a better job at masking her unease. Every fifteen minutes, Olivia tried Alexander’s phone, only for it to go straight to voicemail.
“He’ll be fine, ma’am,” Martin assured her.
All Olivia could do was nod.
After an hour, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She couldn’t just sit around and wait. She needed to do something to help ward off all the thoughts circling around in her head. Grabbing her coat from the hallway closet, she headed toward the door leading to the garage, Martin jumping to his feet and following behind he
r.
“Where are you going?” Agent Long asked, catching up to them.
“Out,” Olivia replied curtly.
“I see that. Where?”
Turning around, she sighed heavily. “Over to a friend’s.”
Agent Long placed her hands on her hips. “If you want to see any friends, I recommend having them come here.”
“I need to get out of this house,” Olivia responded through a clenched jaw. “I can’t just sit here anymore. Everywhere I turn, I’m faced with another reminder of my daughter. I need to go somewhere to clear my head.”
“Don’t you want to be here if they find anything?”
“I’ll have my cell with me. If they find anything, my husband will let me know. Goodbye, Agent Long.”
Olivia headed into the garage and followed Martin to a dark SUV, hopping into the back seat. She expected Agent Long to put up a little more of a fight. Maybe she realized it was pointless, that there was no reason to keep Olivia as a prisoner in her own house.
Jumping into the driver’s seat, Martin caught her gaze in the rearview mirror and nodded. No words needed to be spoken. He knew exactly where she wanted to go. After turning the key in the ignition, Martin drove out of the garage and down the long driveway, pulling onto the street. Silence engulfed them as Olivia watched the miles zoom by, acutely aware of her surroundings, worried someone would follow. Worried someone knew exactly what she had done. Worried someone had put the pieces together and all her work had been for nothing.
As Martin merged onto the interstate and headed north, her racing heart began to slow, but she still couldn’t relax completely. She felt as if the people in every car that passed stared at her, telling her with their eyes that they knew her secret, that she wouldn’t be able to keep it from her husband much longer. She just didn’t know how he would react.
Just before nine, Martin pulled off a residential road in Arlington. After punching a code into the gate, he navigated down a long driveway leading up to a Tudor-style home that was over a century old.
“I’ll wait in here, ma’am,” Martin said.
“Thanks, Martin. I won’t be too long.”
“Take your time.”
Church bells chimed and she glanced at the tower to her right. Stepping out of the car, she could almost make out angelic voices singing a hymn as the services began. She wondered if anyone in the congregation would pray for her daughter’s safe return.
A strong breeze blew through the air and she tugged her jacket closer, refocusing her attention on the house in front of her. A melting snowman greeted her as she trekked up the path to the front door. She smiled to herself, picturing one of her best friends building that creation with his three boys.
Climbing a set of concrete steps, she pulled back the screen door and inserted her key into the lock, letting herself into the house. A warmth surrounded her as she listened to the sounds of laughter emanating from the kitchen.
“Hello?” she called out, the chatter ceasing immediately.
“Auntie Olivia!” three small voices exclaimed, followed by the sound of chairs being pushed away. She was soon met with a barrage of arms wrapping around her legs.
An olive-skinned man rounded the corner to where she stood in the formal living area, a dish towel flung over his shoulder, his brown eyes awash with sympathy. His dark hair sported a touch of gray now that he was on the other side of forty, but he still had a youthful appearance about him.
“Livvy…”
She tried to retain her composure when she saw the worry on Mo’s face. She bit her bottom lip, taking a quick inhale of air.
“Boys, go back into the kitchen and finish eating your breakfast,” he ordered the three kids flanking her.
She gazed down at them affectionately, seeing a mixture of both their mother’s and father’s best features. They had dark, inquisitive eyes like their father, and light hair with a hint of red like their mother. Olivia didn’t know how Kiera and Mo kept up with having three boys under the age of six, with another baby due any day now. Having one child was a lot of work, even with plenty of help. Olivia didn’t know how they were going to deal with four.
Mo had taken a break from touring with his band, Groove Delay, to be here for the birth of their fourth child. He was being hounded by his record label and manager to get back on the road and promote the new album that had soared to the top of the charts in its first week. Their lives had changed almost overnight, and Olivia couldn’t be happier for them, but she knew this newfound fame was difficult on both Kiera and Mo, particularly when it came to having time for family. Kiera supported Mo with everything, assuring him they would find a new routine, a new normal, but Mo had recently confided in Olivia about how guilty he felt, particularly after being gone for over a month. Once Kiera hit her third trimester and had been ordered to remain on bedrest, he couldn’t take it anymore, putting the tour on hold to be with his family.
“You can visit with Auntie Olivia later, okay?” He narrowed his gaze at the boys.
“Okay,” they all said in unison and released their hold on her, heading back into the kitchen.
The sound of forks hitting plates echoed as Mo faced her once more, satisfied they had a brief moment to themselves. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, hugging her with everything he had. She took a deep breath, struggling to keep it together. She didn’t know if she had any tears left to cry at this point.
“I wanted to stop by to see how you were holding up, but I couldn’t leave Kiera.”
“I got your message,” Olivia said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you or Kiera back. It’s just been a bit crazy.”
“No need to apologize,” he offered, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length. “You have a lot on your plate. The last thing you need to worry about is calling me or Kiera. We’re okay. Everything here is okay.” He gave her a knowing look.
“Is that Libby I hear down there?” a familiar shrill voice boomed. Despite having to remain in her bed or on the couch, apart from showering, Kiera sounded like her normal self. “Get your a… I mean, butt up here.”
Olivia allowed herself a laugh. Kiera had been a mom for six years now and still had trouble watching her language around the kids. When she first got pregnant, they often joked that the baby’s first words wouldn’t be “mama” or “dada”. It would be “shit”. Luckily, that didn’t come true, although her oldest, Bryan, learned “goddammit” at one of the most inconvenient times…a funeral for one of Mo’s aunts. He walked up and down the aisles of the church saying it over and over again. Kiera was horrified. Mo, along with most everyone else, laughed it off, thankful for the levity.
Shrugging at Mo, Olivia headed down the hall and up the stairs toward the master bedroom. Entering, she smiled at her friend. Aside from being bedridden, she looked like her regular self. Her fair skin contrasted with the strawberry blond hue of her vibrant hair, her bold green eyes brimming with compassion.
“Oh, Libby,” Kiera exhaled, holding her arms out.
Olivia rushed to one of her closest friends and hugged her. They remained in each other’s embrace for several long moments, neither one wanting to say anything or break the connection. Nearly two decades ago, Olivia had met Kiera her first week of college and they had remained friends through all of life’s ups and downs.
“God, this whole thing just sucks,” Kiera said through her tears.
Olivia pulled back, biting her lower lip. “Don’t go getting upset,” she warned, eyeing her enormous stomach.
Kiera was tiny to begin with, only hitting five-two on a good day. Each pregnancy took a toll on her body, but she insisted she wouldn’t change a thing. She loved being a mom, and was about to become a mother again to either a beautiful girl or a handsome boy. They never wanted to know the gender and were happy as long as the baby was healthy. Still, Olivia held out hope that Kiera would finally get a girl.
“I don’t want you going into labor just yet.” Olivia w
inked.
“You and me both.” Kiera rubbed her stomach. “You’ve got to cook just a bit longer, little one.”
Olivia smiled at her, then caught the time on the clock. She didn’t want to be gone too long, and there was still something she needed to do.
Understanding fell over Kiera’s face and she nodded. “I know. Go ahead.”
Mo walked into the room, sitting on a chair in the corner.
“I’m sorry for putting both of you in this predicament. I promise it’ll just be maybe another day at most,” Olivia assured them. “Martin is working on that whenever he can. Obviously, his priority is helping Alexander, but he’s doing what he can to fix this situation without Alex finding out. Mischa would be so grateful for what you’re doing for her…for everyone.”
Kiera squeezed Olivia’s hand, telling her in that one gesture that she would gladly do everything she could to help.
“Do you think what happened to Mischa could be connected to…?” Mo trailed off, but Olivia knew what he was getting at.
“The thought has certainly crossed my mind,” she admitted, “but it doesn’t make sense. No one knew of my involvement, aside from Mischa and Martin, and now you two. I’ve kept this from everyone for months. Even Alex has never picked up on anything going on. If he never put the pieces together, I doubt anyone else would be able to. There’s no paper trail. There’s nothing. I honestly think these were two isolated events that just happened to occur in close proximity to each other.”
Mo nodded. “I hope you’re right.”
Olivia stood from the bed. “Me, too.” She gave Kiera a kiss on the forehead, then walked out of the room.
The floorboards creaked below her feet as she padded down the hallway toward a back staircase. The original house was built by a wealthy landowner in the 1700s. Over the years, it had deteriorated and was torn down to its foundation, then rebuilt in the early 1900s. Most of the original house had been lost…except for the underground walkway the original owner had constructed so his household staff could still get to the main house from the smaller servants’ quarters, which was now a guest house, even in the most brutal of snowstorms.