by Shade, S. M.
“He’s asleep,” I sigh, and grab the receiver to the baby monitor, clipping it on my waistband.
She follows me down the hall and out the back door, and it’s clear she needs to say something. Judging by the way she chews her lip, I doubt it’s good news.
“I talked to Agent Hems earlier.”
“He called? Any news?”
“No, I called him because…I thought of something.” She perches on the edge of a deck chair, and I sit in another across from her. “The letters addressed to Naomi that were sent to the label. They weren’t really investigated or anything. I mean, I know they said they’d try to track them back, but it’s not like they fingerprinted them or anything, right?”
“No, but what the hell difference does it make now?” Why is she worried about some fan being pissed at Naomi after what she did?
“I know you don’t want to talk about her, but this isn’t about her, really. That’s the point. Remember the wording?” She taps her phone, reading aloud. “‘Do you think you’re better for him than me? Do you think he actually loves you? He’ll never love you like he does me. Stay the fuck away from him.’ Ax, what if they weren’t referring to you? What if the letter was warning Naomi away from Caden? I know you’ve seen the video of Beverly saying she doesn’t know her. She could’ve sent those letters.”
Biting back my words, I shake my head. “That’s what you told the feds?”
“I asked them to test the letters. Fingerprints, DNA, whatever they could do to see who sent them.”
“And what did he say?”
“He promised to look into it.”
Pinning her with my gaze, I try not to raise my voice as I ask a question she better have the right answer to. “Have you talked to her?”
The guilt and anxiety on her face give me her answer before she utters, “A text. She was worried about Caden. All I told her was that he was fine.”
Part of me understands why she wants Naomi to be innocent so badly, but my anger overrides it. “Whose fucking side are you on, Danielle?”
“Caden’s,” she murmurs. “He’s crying all the time. Barely eating. Clinging to one of us every second he’s awake.”
My chair grates against the concrete slab, sliding backward as I get to my feet. “Because he’s traumatized! And it’s that bitch’s fault!”
Dani looks up at me. “No, he misses her. He’s already lost one mother, and now another one. She cared for him twenty-four hours a day and then just disappeared from his life.” Her voice wavers. “We both know how that feels, but at least we were old enough to understand. I don’t know what she knew or what’s going on, but I know he loves her, and if there’s any chance that she’s not involved, we should find out. For his sake.” Her eyes settle on mine. “And yours.”
I want to scream my frustration at her, at the sky, at the world. She’s wrong and she’s right and she knows too goddamn much, judging by those last words and the expression on her face. When no words will come to me, she speaks again.
“I know you were together, Ax. And I know how huge that is after what you went through with Renee. I just…I don’t want all that to get thrown away when we don’t know the truth.”
“The truth is that everything is a lie. Don’t be another person I can’t trust, Dani. Stay the fuck away from her.”
* * *
No more torturous words exist than what if. Dani planted this seed and it keeps sprouting no matter how hard I try to argue against it.
What if Naomi didn’t know? What if she wasn’t any part of it? What if she was choked, drugged, and then victimized again by being accused of his kidnapping? Jailed, shunned, and hated, hung by the court of public opinion. What if Hatch didn’t have to lose her? What if I didn’t have to lose her?
No.
Naomi is related to Hatch. It can’t be a coincidence. She knew. She did this.
But, what if?
I shouldn’t be here. So many times on the drive up, I started to turn back, but I have to know. Nothing is getting better. My nights are awful. Sleep comes after hours of tossing and turning, and once I do manage to fall asleep, I jump from one nightmare to another. Hours of searching for my lost son, of trying not to open that cursed door, of my father’s laughing face.
The worst isn’t the nightmares but the dreams that filter in between them. Naomi, sitting cross legged on the bed with Hatch on her lap, walking through the park with the sun in her hair, gazing up at me with parted lips as I slide inside her. My dreams of her never turn dark or frightening. They’re…comforting. Until I wake and remember all that’s happened.
The nights are hard, but the days are worse. My son is suffering. How much of his torment is because of the kidnapping and how much is his sudden separation from another person he loves is impossible to know. Even when he isn’t throwing tantrums or refusing to eat, he’s clearly not the happy baby he was, and seeing his listless manner breaks my heart.
No child should know the pain of grief or abandonment. I’m so angry at Naomi that I’m not sure how I’ll manage to talk to her face to face, but if there’s some tiny chance—and I’m not ready to really entertain the thought at this point—of bringing Naomi back around, I have to know. I have to know if that will ever be even a small possibility or if I have to find another way to help him.
I’d like to think it’s all about Hatch and his needs, but even through the anger, I know it’s not just about him. I cared about her. I trusted her. I need to know just how badly I was played. What the fuck was she trying to accomplish?
Gravel crunches under the tires of Elliot’s SUV that I borrowed to make the two hour drive up here as I pull into the parking lot of a ramshackle Bed and Breakfast. If I hadn’t double checked, I’d wonder if I have the right place.
A bell jingles when I enter the front door and a lady rushes out to greet me. “Hello, can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Naomi Wells.”
Her smile expands and she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know a Naomi.”
A young man steps into the room in time to hear my reply.
“She’s staying here. Brunette, thin, about this tall.” She just smiles when I hold my hand at Naomi’s height.
“Sorry, doesn’t bring anyone to mind.”
She’s lying. Why is she lying? It suddenly occurs to me I’m not the only one dodging the paparazzi. “I’m not a journalist or here to harass her. I need to speak with her.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but the young man interrupts her. “Holy shit, you’re Axton.” He gapes at me for a moment before adding. “She’s probably in the cemetery just down the road. Make a right out of the parking lot. You can’t miss it.”
“Colton!” the lady exclaims.
“Mom, he’s Axton Todd. She was his son’s nanny when…everything happened.”
“And we promised to guard her privacy. I told you…”
Their arguing voices fade as I head back out the door. I’m not sure where I expected to find Naomi when I decided to seek her out. A hotel or a friend’s house, maybe. Not an old cemetery in the middle of small town nowhere.
The road is narrow with overgrown ditches and trees winding alongside it. There are a few spots where I have to slow down to keep the low hanging tree branches from scratching the SUV’s finish. When nature parts to reveal the cemetery, I’m a little surprised at how large it is. The grass is cut and fresh flowers rest against a few headstones.
In the back row, I spot her, sitting with her back to a fence, a book in her hand, as if hanging out in a cemetery was the most normal thing in the world. She glances up at the sound of the motor, then returns her focus to the book.
Pulling off to the side of the road, I take a deep breath. She’s right there. The woman who burst in and reminded me I could care, then ripped it away by showing me why I shouldn’t. The liar. The manipulator. The reason my son is miserable. Anger takes over. I want answers, and she’s damn well going to give them to me.
&nbs
p; Another truck pulls in and parks a few rows over, and the same young man who told me where to find her gets out. Naomi looks up and gives him a wave, then goes back to her book after he returns it. Without a glance in my direction, he pulls a weed whacker out of the back of his truck and starts fiddling with it.
She never looks up as I get out and walk toward her. It isn’t until I’m standing right next to her that her head tilts up to see me.
“Axton!” Her eyes are a mile wide and they dart to the SUV. “Is Caden with you?” She leaps to her feet.
“Fuck no! Do you really think I’d bring him?”
“No, I…” Her hands twist together. “Of course not. I just…didn’t expect to see you.”
“I need the truth,” I snap. “All of it. You fucking owe me that much.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with Caden being taken. I don’t know those people. I swear.” Her words fall out in a rush.
“Then what the fuck were you up to? You wanted something. You manipulated us from the beginning. Was it money? You thought if you got in my bed that I’d marry you, make you rich? That’s it, isn’t it? Just a common fucking gold digger.”
It’s the most logical answer and one I can understand no matter how it may tear me in half. It’s common. One of the first things agents and managers will tell you once you become successful is to watch out for the money seekers. Hell, they have a whole speech about how to be careful not to put yourself in situations where someone can take advantage.
She winces and shakes her head. Her hands tremble as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, taps the screen a few times and hands it to me. It shows a bank app—more specifically, an account showing a total of just over four million dollars.
What the hell? It only adds more questions. Why take a nanny job with that kind of money? Why work as a teacher the year before? Did she manage to lie about that as well?
“I don’t need money,” she says, taking the phone back.
Frustration climbs over me. “Then what the fuck were you after?”
An audible swallow precedes her small voiced reply, “Family.”
“We’re not your family!”
Desperation fills her features as she looks up at me. “Caden is. He’s the only relative I have left.”
“Then why didn’t you step in to try to get custody? Or visitation rights? Or show up at the fucking door and tell me you’d like to see your nephew?”
“Because of the way everything happened. I don’t know. There wasn’t time. Fuck, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything. I want to tell you everything. I know you’re pissed and you should be, but please, give me a chance to explain everything before you decide you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t waste the effort. I don’t give a fuck about you. I want to know why you inserted yourself into Caden’s life. Why you lied the entire time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Fuck your sorry!” Bird wings beat the air as a flock takes off at my scream. I’m losing it. I need to keep my temper in check if I’m going to get any answers.
The sky has turned a deep gray and a light sprinkle starts to fall. “Come on,” I snap, and stalk away without bothering to look back to see if she follows. We get to the SUV, and I unlock it, letting her inside. Either she isn’t afraid of me and my anger, or she’s willing to risk it because she doesn’t hesitate to get in.
“Now, you’re going to tell me exactly how you know Caden and the people who took him. Don’t leave one fucking thing out, do you understand?”
The windows start to fog as the rain becomes a steady curtain around the car. Her gaze falls to her hands clasped in her lap. “I’ll start from the beginning. Deidre was my sister—well, half-sister—but I only met her once. And only talked to her a few times. We have the same father.
“When I was little, Dad lived with us, with me and Mom, like any normal family, but there were times when he’d disappear for weeks. Then he’d return, usually with toys for me and gifts for Mom. They’d argue and Mom would cry, but then everything would go back to normal and he’d be home again. I didn’t understand then what it meant or why Mom would get so mad. I mean, he always came back.
“Until one day, he didn’t. I don’t know how long he was gone when she decided to go find him. I have a foggy memory of staying with a neighbor lady for a few days. I remember being afraid that Mom wouldn’t come back either. I thought maybe it was me he wanted away from and she did too. I wasn’t old enough to understand a child doesn’t drive away a parent.”
Her words send a spike through my chest, but she doesn’t notice my reaction. Her head is tilted away and she gazes out the window. I don’t think she’s in this car with me anymore, but back in the time she’s describing.
“Mom came back and told me to forget about him. That he had a new wife and another little girl. They were his family now. I was so angry. I hated that other little girl. For years I hated the thought of her and how she took my place.
“I was angry and heartbroken, but Mom was devastated. She was never the same after that. She wasn’t interested in anything, not even me, and I thought she blamed me. It was like I lost both parents. I never went without food or clothes or essentials, but I was starved just the same. For someone to care about me.”
With a sigh, she glances over at me, then looks away quickly. “I’m getting off subject. Sorry. I’ve never told the whole story. I’m not looking for sympathy or saying this excuses anything.”
It’s hard not to sympathize when I know those feelings all too well.
“Anyway, when I was twelve, Mom told me he’d died. He and the new woman were heavily into drugs and he nodded off in the bathtub and drowned. Too high to wake up. She didn’t mention the other little girl, and I didn’t ask, but I found Dad’s obituary online and printed it out. It had her name listed as surviving family. Hers, not mine. I hated her even more, but I kept the printout.”
The rain has let up, and she wipes the window with her sleeve pulled over her hand, staring into the mist. “After Mom died, it was just me. I had a couple of relationships, but they didn’t work out. When I went to clean out my old bedroom and put her house up for sale, I found the obituary. It hit me that I had a family, a sister I’d never met.
“I guess I’d grown up enough to realize none of it was her fault any more than it was mine. It wasn’t hard to find her, but she wasn’t exactly happy that I did. She was living in a shitty studio apartment with her baby.” She swallows hard. “With Caden. He was such a precious little guy.
“It was obvious she was struggling, and she told me she had no other family as well, so I thought I could help. It was clear we were very different and that I had it far better than she did. I wanted to get to know them, even though she didn’t seem thrilled with the idea. She was so…antsy and eager for me to leave. It wasn’t fair, barging in on her and expecting her to want the same thing I wanted, so I tried to take it slow. We talked on the phone. She sent me pictures of Caden.”
“When did she tell you I was the father?” I demand.
“She didn’t. She just told me the father was long gone. I didn’t know if she meant dead or just run off, and I didn’t ask. There were a lot of things she wouldn’t tell me. If she worked, I have no idea what her job was or who watched Caden. She kept me on the very fringes of their lives, probably only because I would send her money and things for the baby.
“The last time I tried to call her, the number was disconnected. I was buried in my work as a teacher and she lived a few hours from me. When summer break came, and I finally managed to get away, I drove to her apartment. It was empty. The elderly lady who lived down the hall passed by me as I stared at her door, and I asked her when Deidre had moved. That’s when I found out she had died weeks earlier. Overdosed.”
She keeps her face turned away from me and wipes her eyes before continuing.
“We never really clicked—there wasn’t time, but I’d had hope, and now that wa
s gone, along with her and my only relative left, a baby I had only seen once and had no rights or connection to. I tried talking to Child Welfare, to see where he was and if I could be considered.”
“What?” My snapped response makes her turn to face me. “Child Welfare told me they didn’t know about you. Did you petition for custody?”
A bitter laugh fills the car. “I called so many times and some bitchy woman wouldn’t listen to me. She even told me she was tired of questions about some junkie’s kid and to stop bothering her. When I finally reached a different person who would talk to me, they informed me that the father had already accepted custody. So no, I didn’t petition for custody or anything. He wasn’t going to end up in the system, and I figured if he had a father who wanted him, he was better off.”
Her voice wavers. “I gave up and tried to accept that I was alone.”
“This doesn’t make any fucking sense. If Deidre was so poor, why didn’t she file for child support? She clearly knew I was the father.”
Naomi leans her head on the window. “I think she figured one look at her situation versus yours and she’d lose him. I mean, you’re rich. What chance did she have? Drugs and everything aside, I think she loved him. He was all she had.”
Tears spill over onto her cheeks. “I fucked that up too. I could’ve done more. I should’ve done more. Tried harder to get to know her. Found a way to get them out of their situation, moved her in with me, something. Then Caden would never have lost his mother.”
“And never met me,” I point out. “But I guess that’d be fine, wouldn’t it, since all you cared about was getting close to him.” Her story was hard to hear, but it doesn’t change what she did. Lied and manipulated me and Dani to get what she wanted. When she opens her mouth to defend herself, I snap, “How did you end up finding him? There’s no fucking way you working for that nanny agency was a coincidence.”
“No,” she replies softly. “Finding him was pure luck. I wasn’t looking, but my friend worked at the agency. She knew about him, and when his name turned up on one of the requests for a nanny placement, she hired me. With my background it wasn’t hard to justify to her superiors. I got the job in the hopes of checking on Caden. I thought I could see him, what kind of place and situation he was living in. I failed my sister. The least I could do was make sure her son was okay. And then introduce myself to the family as a relative and maybe they’d let me see him.”
