I felt a hand on my back and I knew it was Dannika, but my vision and hearing were tunneling, the world around me growing faint as I fought harder to focus. My heart pounded in my chest, and I focused on it. The steady thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. I patted my hand to my chest, following the pattern. I had to breathe. I needed to hear the rest.
Dannika bent down next to me, an arm around my shoulders, and rested her head against mine. She didn’t say a word, didn’t have to, but helped shoulder my grief with her actions. “Can you tell us what will happen next?” she asked the officer.
“From all that you’ve told me, Palmer, I know it’s hard to hear, but I believe Ben was planning to leave you. It seems like he took the money with the intent of running away when the timing was right. We believe we’ve located his parents, but we haven’t been able to make contact. I have officers headed to their residence now to see if we can get them to confirm my suspicions. If Ben contacted them, it’s likely they knew his plan. Right now, we’re searching the boat to see if there’s any indication of what happened, and we’ve got crews out searching for the…” She hesitated. “For their bodies, like I said. I believe it’s just a matter of time.”
I let out a sob, my fingers going to my lips.
“I’m so sorry, Palmer,” Dannika whispered, squeezing me tighter.
“Does she have someone she can stay with?” Kessler asked, her voice cool and official.
“She can stay with me,” Dannika said. “For as long as she needs.”
I looked up at the officer, who nodded with a tight jaw. I fought back still-tunneling vision, feeling sure I was going to throw up at any moment. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel, couldn’t think. It all hurt. It hurt to cry, to inhale, to exhale, to scream. I fell further into the sand, resting on my elbows as I sobbed into the wet sand.
It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t.
I’d fought so hard to bring my baby into the world.
I’d grown his little lips, formed his little fingers, and someone had ripped him away from me. Everything in my future had been ripped away in the blink of an eye. No first steps, no first words, no preschool, no teaching him to swim, no watching him see the ocean for the first time. It was all just…gone. He was gone. I’d never hold my son again. Never look into his sparkling blue eyes. Never hear what his laugh would’ve sounded like. Never hear him call me ‘Mommy.’
I couldn’t catch my breath as I tried to, still face down in the sand. I didn’t care enough to lift up. Dannika’s hands were on my back again, pulling me up, and I heard Kessler say something.
The words were fuzzy, like my vision, and before I could focus, darkness found me.
Chapter Twenty
When I awoke, I was in a room I didn’t recognize at first. I looked around at the green walls and white curtains, the photos that weren’t mine. It all felt like a dream.
Then the pain hit me. Slammed into me with the weight of a brick wall. It took my breath away.
My son was probably dead.
My husband was probably dead.
My husband was definitely a liar.
I still knew nothing of the truth.
I sat up, squeezing my eyes shut as the tears welled in them, blurring my vision. I grabbed the comforter, holding it to my face as I sobbed into it.
None of it felt real.
It was a nightmare I couldn’t escape from.
A horror story that used me as the heroine.
Had Gray felt it? Had he cried out for me? Had it been peaceful? Painful? Had he wondered where I was? Why I couldn’t save him?
Why, Ben?
I laid in bed, sobbing for what seemed like hours, my body physically incapable of moving too much. If I laid still enough, perhaps I would wake up and realize it was all a dream.
After a while, I sat up, my chest and muscles sore from the constant crying. My face was red and raw from the tears, my throat scratchy. I needed to bathe. I needed to brush my teeth. I needed to pump my milk. Still, I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the strength to do anything.
I lifted my phone from the nightstand and checked it. My mom had texted, checking in. She’d either seen it on the news or Dannika had filled her in. Her words were misspelled, and I knew she’d typed it while crying, too. I couldn’t talk to her right then. It would only make me cry harder.
My bladder burned for relief and, eventually, I forced myself to get up rather than pee the bed in Dannika’s guest bedroom. If I’d been at home, I may have chosen differently. I walked toward the bathroom and stepped into the bright light, glancing at myself in the mirror. It was as if a light had been switched off inside of me. Though it had only been hours since I’d found out what happened, it looked like years of life had been drained from my body. My skin was sallow and dull, my eyes dark. My hair stuck up in every direction, my clothes drenched in sweat and stiff from the saltwater and sand. My arms and the back of my neck had a red, itchy rash that I realized must’ve come from not showering when we got home. The bed was full of sand, and thanks to the salt, my skin was drier than usual. It was a bad combination, but despite the itch, I just didn’t care. It was as if the caring part of me had drifted off to sea with my child. I was empty, a vessel with a beating heart and working bodily functions, but not much else.
After I’d used the restroom and washed my hands, I scooped a bit of water into my mouth to ease my dry throat, just enough to coat my tongue, and then walked from the room. I was tempted to climb back into bed, to never move again, but I needed to see if there had been any updates. I knew by now the news would be covering the story.
When I walked out of the bedroom, Dannika was sitting on the edge of the couch, folding a load of laundry. She perked up when she saw me, watching my expression. “Hey…” she said cautiously. “How are you?”
I shook my head, my voice catching in my throat before I could say anything. I felt empty, I supposed, was the best way to describe it. So much emptiness. “Have they…found anything?” Anyone.
She shook her head, almost eagerly. “No, nothing.”
I looked around. “Where’re the kids?” I wasn’t used to being in Dannika’s house without it being loud, noisy, and messy. It was like some alternate reality.
Her expression changed, and I realized in an instant why they weren’t there. Because from here on out, I would be the woman people felt strange for having their kids around. Like they were bragging simply by existing. Like I would wish all kids would die because mine had. “I had Ty drop them off at his mom’s on his way to the office. She gets bored, and I figured you could use some quiet.”
I glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t you be at work, too?” Not me. I’m not sure I’ll ever go back again.
“I took the rest of the week off, and so did you. I called Cumberland last night after we got home. We’re fine. It’s being handled. I think Howie may come by later to check on you, if that’s okay.”
I didn’t want to see anyone, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I wandered into the kitchen and opened the cabinet where she kept her glasses. I pulled out a purple plastic one and filled it with tap water. As I lifted the glass to my lips, seeing the water rising toward me, I had a flash of water filling Gray’s toothless mouth, filling his lungs. I coughed, spluttering up water and spewing it across the room as new tears filled my eyes. How was I supposed to go on like this? How was I going to survive it? I wasn’t sure I would.
Dannika shot up the instant I coughed, rushing toward me with a towel. Without me explaining what happened, she seemed to understand. That was Dannika; she always understood. She grabbed a towel from the drawer and cleaned up my mess, watching me stand there frozen in place with the cup in my hand. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to drink again. Maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about living much longer after all. How long could a person live without water? The rule of threes. Three minutes without oxygen, three days without water, three weeks without food. The old saying came to my head immediately. Three days didn’t seem
so bad.
“Thank you,” I squeaked once she’d cleaned it up. She shook her head, reaching her arms out for me. If I gave in to her hug, I was going to lose it.
She stepped forward, and I fell, crashing my weight into her chest, which she bared gracefully. Her arms engulfed me, her cheek pressed to mine, and when we pulled away, there were tears in her own eyes, an ocean of sorrow looking back at me. She kissed my forehead, pressing hers to mine. “I’m so sorry, Palmer. I don’t even know what to say except I’m so sorry.”
What could she say? There was nothing. No combination of the right words or syllables could ease the ache in my heart. It had lodged itself there permanently, a lump of bitter pain where feelings were supposed to be.
I nodded, hugging her back and letting the sobs come freely. I sniffled and snotted and cried until my body ached, and Dannika held me the whole time. I’d never been so grateful for her, even if it was a dull, muted, colorless kind of grateful. My life without Gray was, for lack of a better word, gray, and that was the cruelest amount of irony life had ever bestowed upon me.
When we broke apart, she put the cup on the counter behind us, moving it from the island, and led me into the living room to sit down on the couch.
“Do I…I mean, am I supposed to be planning a funeral for them?” My lips quivered at the question.
“I don’t want you to worry about that right now. The police are still searching. Right now, we…we just wait and we…and we pray. And we trust that God is going to bring that baby back to you. If we don’t have hope, Palmer, we don’t have anything. You know that.”
“Why would they let him take a boat out in the storm? Why wouldn’t they have made him wait to get the keys if they knew the storm was coming?” I asked, my voice an octave higher. I didn’t want to wait or to pray. I wanted my son back. I wanted answers. Rage felt safer than anything, so it was the one emotion I let in at its full, colorful glory. “Shouldn’t there be a…a law on it or something?”
“I’ve been looking at the website. Apparently if they’re caught in a storm, they have the ability to wait it out or bring it back for a refund. If he was already on the water by the time the storm came, maybe he thought it was safe enough to wait it out…” She trailed off, realizing she wasn’t helping.
I didn’t need facts. I didn’t need anything besides Gray, and I knew the chances of me having him ever again were slim to none. Office Kessler had all but said so. They were looking for bodies, not survivors.
“I know we hadn’t been together that long, but…I really did love Ben,” I said, feeling pathetic. I grabbed a tissue as she handed me the box, scooting back on the couch and settling in next to me.
“I know you did, babe. I know.”
“I thought he loved me.”
“I thought he did, too. He fooled us all.”
“I didn’t want him to die.” It’s a thought that’d been in my head for a while now. No matter how angry I was with Ben, I didn’t want him to die. I just wanted him to love me. To choose me. I didn’t want to be an option. I wanted his proposal, his ‘I do,’ to have meant the same as my ‘yes’ and ‘I do, too.’ I was in love with Ben. I loved him with everything I had, and I was prepared to stay with him for the rest of our lives. Until Kat. As far as I was concerned, she ruined everything.
I knew from my experience with Nate, blaming the woman wasn’t the right direction. He’d been the cheater. He’d been the liar. As far as I knew, Kat was just as much a victim in this as I was. But I had no sympathy for her, not after I watched her with Gray. Not after what she’d done.
“Of course you didn’t want him to die,” Dannika said, tilting her head toward her shoulder. “Of course not, Palmer. I know that. I know how much you loved him, what you sacrificed for him. If he couldn’t see that, he was the one who made the mistake. No one in this world is better than you. He’s blind if he couldn’t see that.” She squeezed my hand and paused. “I looked at the girl’s profile this morning, and she’s not all that great, honestly. No match for you. He was blind, and that’s his fault. You can be sad that he’s gone and hurt that he betrayed you. It’s not either/or. You’re allowed to grieve in your own way. No one can tell you how to feel right now.”
“I wish they could, honestly. I don’t know how to feel. Hurt, obviously. Sad. But…I just feel empty mostly. I feel like there’s a huge hole inside of me where they’re supposed to be. How can this be happening?”
She frowned sympathetically. “I don’t know…I just don’t.”
“I know it’s not her fault, but I want to blame her, you know? I need to be angry at someone, and I can’t bring myself to feel that anger for Ben. As much as I want to.”
“Be angry at her all you want.” She shifted her weight on the couch, handing me a new tissue as I felt new tears forming. “That’s your right. You get angry. Be furious. Be mad at her. Mad at him. Mad at the universe. And then when you’re done being mad, we’ll be sad and we’ll cry, and then we can switch back to mad. However you’re feeling, you do it, and I’ll be right there with you. You can stay with Ty and me for as long as you like. We’ve already discussed it. Consider it an open invitation. And, if you want to move out of the apartment, we’ll deal with that, too.”
I hadn’t even thought about the apartment, and I wasn’t sure when I could. “I can’t be a burden to you guys,” I said, dabbing my nose.
“You, my friend, are never a burden. You were the only thing that got me through Momma dying during college, and this is me returning the favor in the best way I know how.”
My phone chimed, and I glanced down, my eyes widening at the screen. “She made a new post…” I should’ve turned my notifications off for her posts, but I hadn’t thought about it. She’d been silent for days now.
“Who?” Dannika asked.
I opened the app and waited for it to load. When it did, I studied it. It was a close-up picture of her sitting on the edge of a hotel bed, her hair had all been flipped to one side of her head in a casual way, her face solemn. The blue tank top she wore hung off one shoulder loosely. Despite the messy look, it was obvious her makeup had been done, albeit natural-looking. The picture was meant to look bad in a very good way.
I scrolled to read the caption.
Hey, food lovers! I’m sorry I haven’t been as active lately. I’ve had a few things going on to disrupt my schedule (and my life honestly) and I’m working toward a new normal. Please bear with me while I make some adjustments. So many of you have reached out to be sure all is well, and I assure you it is. Soon, I’ll be able to share all the exciting details with you, but for now, I’m sending you my love. Drop your favorite food emoji below to let me know you’ve seen this. Eat well, my loves. Dessert first!
I read through it twice. What was she talking about? What changes? What things? What adjustments? What exciting news? This didn’t seem like the post of a woman who’d just learned her boyfriend was missing and potentially lost at sea. Had she heard the news? If not, wasn’t she worried about him?
I studied the picture, looking for a hint of emotion other than happiness in her eyes, but it wasn’t there. Whatever she had with Ben, if she’d heard the news, it couldn’t have been serious.
As my eyes trailed the corners of the photo, I froze, the hairs on my arms standing up as my body went cold. “Dani…”
“What is it?” she asked, her voice hesitant.
I swallowed, my throat dry again as I looked up at her and held out the phone. The words I said next sent chills down my spine as we both stared at the tiny, blue and white blanket in her background. She’d missed cropping it out by just a bit, but I’d know it anywhere. It was custom and, if I flipped it over, his name would be sewn on the bottom left hand corner. “She has Gray.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dannika searched the picture, looking for any other clue as to where she might be, while I called Officer Kessler to let her know what we’d discovered. She swore to look into it and ended the call
quickly, a new urgency in her voice, and for the first time, I realized she might truly believe me. For the first time, I was allowing myself to hope. Gray was alive, and we were going to find him.
When we’d given up on the picture, I moved back to my online banking, searching through the transactions the police still hadn’t given me any updates for.
I dialed my bank, trying to get to the bottom of it once and for all.
“Midwest State Bank, this is Deb, how may I help you?”
“Deb, hi. My name is Palmer Lewis. I have a few accounts with you, and it looks like I have a transaction per month for the last several months that I don’t recognize.”
“Okay,” she said, her tone professional and sharp. “Let’s take a look. Do you have your account number?”
I recited it to her from memory and listened as she typed it in. “Can you verify the last four of your social and your birth date?”
I did as she asked and waited.
“Okay, now, which transactions are we talking about?” I heard her typing again.
“There is one a month for a thousand even and, from what I can see, it goes back six months.”
She was quiet for a moment, then clicked her tongue. “I see what you mean. It looks like…yes, they’re being sent out of your account to another bank via your online banking.”
“Is there a way to see who the account belongs to?”
“Hmm…did you not authorize the transfers?”
“I didn’t, no. I’m not sure what they are for.”
“They would’ve had to be done with your credentials…” She trailed off. “I can’t see any information on it—it looks like they were done through our third party, person-to-person pay service—but I can put in a request to be able to get more information from our back office. It may take a day or two. If you didn’t do it, we can do a dispute for you, but you’d lose access to your online banking, and there’s no guarantee we could get your money back. It would have to go through an investigation, especially since it isn’t connected to your card. Visa disputes are a bit easier.”
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