by Jessie Cooke
“The case is still open…”
“What does that mean? They have a file with his name on it and his picture inside? They’re not looking for him, Chauncey! They don’t even care. He’s just a little boy…” She started to cry again but this time when he reached for her, she pulled away. He wanted to ask her how it had come to her punching a cop, but he had a feeling it wasn’t the right time.
“Let me take you home, Poppy. Come home with me tonight, okay?”
“No.”
“I have some news for you.”
A flicker of hope colored her eyes. “What?”
“I talked to Marlene’s old man this morning.” Shocking him, she slammed one of her fists into his chest. It didn’t hurt, but he was startled, nonetheless. “What the hell?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you found her again?”
“I didn’t find her, Blackheart’s investigator did. You remember? The one you were giving until next week before you did anything stupid?” Chance knew Blackheart would be pissed when he heard about her getting into trouble again. He doubted the investigator would be there much longer, so he hoped even more that Charlie came through for them.
Her face went from looking like an angry woman to a remorseful little girl in an instant. “I’m sorry, shit…I’m sorry. I was going crazy just sitting around waiting to hear something. I came down here just to ask if they had any new leads. That cop was just being a bitch. She told me that four hundred and sixty thousand kids go missing every year in this country and that most of the ones who don’t come home on their own are never found. Why the fuck would she think I wanted to hear that?”
“So, you punched her?” Chance said, suddenly amused but trying to keep a straight face.
“No, but I did tell her how stupid I thought she was for telling me that. It was her partner I punched.”
Losing his battle with the smile he said, “What did she do?”
“He…” she said, putting an emphasis on the man’s gender, “told me I should calm down, called me honey…and then he touched me.”
The smile fell from Chance’s face. “He touched you where?”
She waved a hand at him, like maybe he’d been the one overreacting, and said, “On the shoulder, but it was condescending, and it pissed me off.”
Chance sighed. The last time she was in town, she’d almost been arrested for threatening a file clerk who she was sure was hiding their mother’s current address. Chance had been there to smooth that over, but one of these days he was afraid that everything she’d lived through would finally take control…the way it had him the night he killed his stepfather. He wanted to ask her if she was getting therapy but figured that would just get him punched in the face. Instead he said again, “Stay with me tonight, Poppy, please. The kids will be home in the morning, and we’ll spend the day together.”
“What did her old man say?” Poppy asked, her mind never changing tracks.
“He’s going to talk to her and get back to me.”
“She’s got all that money. What if she runs and disappears again?”
“The investigator is watching her. He’ll let me know if she’s on the move. Take the night off, Poppy, let’s watch a movie, have a beer…bake a cake for Bubba?”
A lone tear ran down her face and her eyes softened again. “Lemon with…”
“Chocolate frosting,” Chance said with a smile. It was Bubba’s favorite. Their mother never remembered their birthdays, but Poppy always made sure the boys had a cake for theirs. She’d even almost gotten arrested once, stealing a cake mix from the little general store near the basin when Bubba turned five. But the owner had taken pity on the dirty-faced ten-year-old who only wanted to make sure her little brother had some kind of celebration. He’d even ended up sending her home with three sodas and a bag full of candy once she had everything she needed for the cake. That man had always been kind to the kids, and he was even one of the people who testified at the hearing they had in juvenile court after Chance killed the old man. He’d told the judge how neglected the kids had been and how he often sold alcohol to their mother and father, but rarely groceries.
Chance shook off those old memories and put his arm around his sister. “Come on, we’ll stop at the store on the way home.”
Chance and Poppy baked a lemon cake that night and then slathered it in chocolate frosting, just the way Bubba used to like it. It was fun, but it was bittersweet, knowing he wouldn’t be there to share it with them. It would be his sixteenth birthday, and Chance couldn’t help but wonder: if he was alive, was he celebrating it somewhere with people who loved him?
The two of them didn’t talk about any of the heavy things on their mind: Bubba, Gray, Sharon and the baby…instead, it was almost like they were kids again, finally alone in the house where they could play their music loud and dance around the kitchen like idiots. It was fun and, Chance thought, just what they both needed. Poppy fell asleep on the couch that night as the movie they’d chosen still played and Chance covered her up with a quilt, kissed her on the forehead, and went to his own bed. With Sharon not there, the bed seemed much too big, and lonely. He was looking forward to having the twins there for the weekend. The house needed life, much more life than he was able to give it on his own. He couldn’t wait for his old lady…and his new little boy...to come home too; the house needed a family, and so did he.
Chance woke up the next morning to the smells of coffee and cinnamon. Poppy was already up, baking cinnamon rolls and looking for the first time since she’d been home like she’d gotten plenty of sleep the night before. The two of them ate breakfast together and about an hour after they finished cleaning the kitchen, Sharon’s sister dropped off the twins. The girl, Layla, was shy at first but within just a few hours she and Poppy were painting each other’s fingernails and talking about a television show that Layla really liked. Chance and the boy, Logan, spent some time playing soccer in the back yard, and that afternoon they all worked together to put together enough food for an army. Chance barbecued steaks, with Logan’s help, and Poppy and Layla cut up fruit and made baked potatoes. After their meal they were all stuffed and while Poppy and the kids cleaned up the kitchen, Chance stepped outside with his phone. He called Forrest, the investigator.
“Hey, it’s Chance. I was just making sure she wasn’t on the move.”
“Nope,” Forrest said. “Neither of them has left the house all day.’
“Hmm, maybe someone should check and make sure they’re still alive,” Chance said, only half-kidding.
“He came out and picked up the paper this morning and I saw her and the kid in the garage later, so I think they’re all still breathing.”
“That’s good,” Chance said, realizing sadly the only reason he still wanted Marlene breathing was so they could eventually find out what she knew about where Bubba might be. He ended the call with Forrest and sent a text to Sharon telling her he would bring the twins by to see her and little Bubba the next morning. When he finished his conversation with her, he went back inside just in time to hear Logan ask:
“Why did you make him a cake if he’s not here?”
Chance saw the lemon cake on the dining room table. Poppy had decorated it, writing “Happy Birthday” on top and placing two candles in the center, a one and a six. “Because,” Poppy told Logan, “we miss him. We can’t be with him for his birthday, but it makes us feel better to remember it. Maybe, wherever he is, he can feel how much we miss and love him.”
Logan looked at Chance then, “How come you never told us you have a brother?”
Chance went over and sat down in one of the seats around the table. “It’s hard to talk about,” he told Logan, honestly. “I miss him, all the time.”
“Our dog died when we were five,” Layla said. “Mama said that it would help us feel better to remember him. She gave us a picture of him for our room and we kept all his toys and talked about him a lot. It made me not so sad, to remember how much I loved him.”
“Where is he?” Logan asked.
Poppy and Chance looked at each other and Chance said, “We don’t know,” then looking directly at his sister he said, “But we won’t stop looking for him until we do.” They lit the candles on the cake, and they all sang happy birthday and then the twins blew the candles out. Poppy told them all to make a wish. Chance wasn’t sure what the kids wished for, but he was certain that he and Poppy wished for the same thing…for Bubba to finally come home.
15
Chance was sad to see the weekend come to an end. Dahlia picked up the kids Sunday night. They’d had a good time with him and Poppy and a long visit with their mom and brother at the hospital. The baby was gaining weight and doing all his breathing on his own, so Sharon was sure he’d be able to go home soon. Still, it was hard for the kids to leave, and harder still for Chance to let them go. He was even sadder once they were gone, and Poppy left to return to her hotel room. He tried talking her into staying at the house; there was plenty of room and he was enjoying getting to know her again…but he had a feeling she was planning on seeing Grayson and knew that would never happen in Chance’s house.
Monday morning, he headed into the club. As soon as he got there, Blackheart sent him and Gabe out to the docks where the Babineaux commercial fishing boats brought in their daily catch, with checks and paperwork for the captains. Not everything the Jokers did was above board, but they did have legitimate businesses and Blackheart’s family fishing business was the most lucrative one. While they were out, they went by the strip club where Sharon worked and picked up the weekly receipts. Chance spent over an hour in the back, showing off pictures of the baby while the girls “oohed” and “aahed” over him. He felt his chest swell with pride over him and it was getting easier by the day to forget that the baby didn’t have his DNA in his veins.
It was just after noon when he and Gabe headed back to the club. He’d just turned off his bike and was about to step off when his phone rang. It was Forrest. “Hey.”
“Hey, Chance. There’s a U-Haul truck in your mother’s driveway.”
“Son of a bitch! Is it loaded?”
“Not yet, but I just saw a few of the old man’s workers from his construction site show up. I’m guessing that’s what they’re here for.”
“Shit. I’m on my way, Forrest. Do not let them leave!”
“Sure,” Forrest said, casually. Chance knew that there wasn’t anything the man could do to legally stop them, but he was hoping that Maddox had trained his guys how to circumvent legalities when it was necessary. He went inside the club long enough to let Blackheart know what was going on. Blackheart offered to let him take Gabe and a couple of prospects with him, but he thanked him and declined. This was family business, and he needed to take care of it himself…he and his sister. Before getting back on his bike he called Poppy and told her to meet him outside in fifteen minutes. She didn’t ask any questions and she was waiting when he got there. He handed her a helmet and she said:
“We going to Baton Rouge?”
“Yep.”
“She running?”
“Trying to. We’re going to stop her. This ends today.”
Poppy smiled and climbed on the bike behind him. He hadn’t thought to ask her if she’d ever been on a Harley. He felt her grab on tightly when he took off though, and a few times he had to remind himself that killing his sister in his rush to get there would only compound his problems. They drove straight through, arriving in Baton Rouge around 3 p.m., and at Marlene’s house by 3:15. The U-Haul was still in the driveway, with the door rolled up. It looked about half full of furniture. There were three pickups parked out front and Chance recognized one of them as Charles’ GMC. He parked the bike at the end of the street and the two of them walked back toward the house. Forrest met them about halfway there. Chance introduced him to Poppy, and he said:
“I got word from my computer geek this morning that she transferred twenty grand into her husband’s account, so that was when I had my first inkling that she was up to something. We couldn’t find any passports on file for any of them, otherwise they’d probably be on a plane by now. And by the way, that offshore account belongs to a family in North Carolina. Their name is Bisset, Joan and Marshall. They’re old money. The family made millions in the railroad at the turn of the last century.”
“So, any idea what they’re paying her for?” Poppy asked.
“No, but interestingly enough, Joan had a child when she married Marshall. That boy died of pneumonia when he was ten years old.” Forrest took out his phone and pulled up his photos. When he stopped at one and showed it to them, Poppy gasped.
Chance could almost feel the color draining out of his own face as he said, “He looks just like Bubba.” Forrest nodded and said:
“We can’t find any type of paperwork that says they had any more children, or ever adopted one, but Maddox was headed out to North Carolina himself to check it out.”
Chance looked at Poppy. He could see the hope all over her face. He wanted to feel it but wouldn’t allow himself. It could just end up being another dead end. After all, if a wealthy family had stolen or bought Bubba at eleven years old, surely someone would have said, or done, something in five years. It just didn’t seem plausible enough to him to hope for. Instead, he looked over at the moving truck, wanting to focus his energy elsewhere. Poppy followed his eyes and then he saw hers move over to the far side of the yard. There was a swing hanging from one of the trees, and one of the construction guys was pushing a little blond-haired boy on it. He looked to be three or four years old and Chance knew his sister was thinking the same thing he was…that little boy was their brother, a brother who might grow up, never knowing they even existed.
“Y’all want me to go over there with you?” Forrest asked.
Chance shook his head, “Thanks, but we need to do this.”
“Okay, but I’ll be in the car if you need me.” They thanked him and started across the street. They had almost reached the driveway when a woman came out of the house carrying a lamp and a small box. She looked up just as they were about six feet from her and the lamp slipped from her fingers and crashed into pieces onto the sidewalk.
“Charles!” she screamed, at the top of her lungs.
“Hello, Mother,” Poppy said. Marlene actually looked ten years younger than the last time they saw her. She was wearing a red sundress with yellow flowers on it and her usually pale skin looked tan and healthy. She was by no means fat, but she had at least fifty pounds more on her body than she had back then, most of it muscle. Her hair was shiny and cut in wispy layers around her face, and the green eyes she looked at them with looked just like the ones that Chance saw in the mirror every day.
“What do you want?” she spat at them.
“The same thing we’ve wanted for the past five years. We want to know where our brother is,” Chance said. He saw Charles come through the garage and when he looked over at him, the man stopped dead in his tracks and his face went pale. The other men in the yard had taken notice and were all coming toward them, even the one now holding the little boy’s hand. Charles saw them and said:
“Brandon! Take the boy in the house.”
“Mommy!” The little boy’s sweet voice cut through Chance’s heart like a knife. He might not know what was going on, but he could sense that something was wrong. As Brandon tried to steer him toward the house, Chance looked down at him and said:
“It’s okay, little guy, we’re friends of your mommy.” The little boy stared up at Chance with a pair of aqua blue eyes, and then looked at his mother. Proving she had learned at least a little something about being a parent, Marlene smiled at the boy and said:
“It’s okay, Ollie, you go with Brandon. Mama will be inside soon.” The little guy
pushed the long, blond hair back out of his eyes to look up at Chance one more time. Chance smiled at him, and then finally, if reluctantly, he followed Brandon inside. Chance waited until the little boy was in the house and then turned to Charles.
“You don’t care that she told you all of these lies, do you? You’re just so fucking desperate not to be alone that you’re going to run away with a woman who sold her own kid…”
“How dare you?!” Chance ignored her and kept his eyes on Charles’ now red face.
“What happens when she’s done with your kid? You don’t think she’d sell him just as easily?”
“Where is he?” Poppy spat at Marlene. “Where is Bubba?”
“I’ve told both of you, and the police, over and over again…he ran away from that group home and I don’t know where he went after that!”
“You believe her?” Chance asked Charles, who had yet to say a word. “Where did she tell you she got the money?”
“James had life insurance. They finally paid it out to me a year after you murdered him,” Marlene said. Chance was trying not to look at her. He was trying to keep his focus on Charles. She was going to lie until she drew her last breath…but Charles’ watery blue eyes were filled with fear, and guilt, and Chance thought he could break him.
“You bought that too? James never worked a day in his life. He didn’t have a pot to piss in, but you think he paid for a life insurance policy? And then a year after he died, she got it in small deposits? Are you really that stupid, or are you just desperate like I thought originally?”