by Willow Rose
“I won’t be able to contact you. I won’t be able to see you or help you out with anything for a very long time,” I had explained. “I won’t tell you where I’m going, what I’m doing, or when I’ll be back. Do you understand? The less you know, the better. They can’t get out of you what I didn’t put in there in the first place. If they take you in for interrogation, you won’t be able to give up my whereabouts.”
She had agreed, even though she had been slightly scared.
“The kids might miss you,” Sydney said now, slapping more moisturizer on her well-shaped legs. “And you might miss them. What’s one little phone call, huh?”
I swallowed and stared at the TV. We had this conversation over and over again.
“They know I’m all right. I told them this was how it was going to be. Before I left, I sat down with them and told them I was going to find their sister, but that it meant I was going to be gone for some time.”
I closed my eyes and recalled Alex’s and Christine’s eyes as they stared up at me. Christine was crying but tried desperately to hide it. Alex had placed his little hand on my shoulder and looked me seriously in the eyes.
“Go, Mom. Go find Olivia. We’ll be fine. Just bring our sister back.”
Christine had sniffled and nodded. “Alex is right, Mom. We just want Olivia back.”
“You can just call them from one of those burner phones you carry around,” Sydney said. “I know you’re dying to hear their voices.”
I was. She was right about that part. Every cell in my body was desperately screaming to see them again or at least hear their voices. I wanted to hug them and kiss them, but I wanted to hold their sister in my arms just as much, and right now she was the one who needed me the most, not them.
“It’s too risky,” I said. “By now, the police might have tapped all their phones. I can’t risk them finding us and having all this been in vain. I almost killed a guy, Sydney. It’s not small stuff.”
“All right, all right. I hear you. I was there, remember?”
“I do,” I said and turned off the TV in the middle of pictures from the gas attack. Right before the TV went out, I thought I saw something that made my heart stop.
What in the…?
Heart pounding in my chest I turned the TV back on, but as I did, they had moved on to another story and were interviewing some politician.
“No, no, no,” I said and flipped to another channel, then continued till I was frantically scrolling through all the channels.
“NO!” I screamed and threw the remote toward the wall. It slammed against it, then fell to the carpet, the batteries falling out.
“What’s going on?” Sydney asked and picked it up. “Why are you freaking out?”
I stared at her, panting and agitated.
“I…there was…on the TV, she was there!”
“Who was? You’re making no sense, Eva Rae.”
“OLIVIA!” I yelled, grasping my face. “She was right there. On that clip from the attack, the one they just showed. She was on the platform.”
Chapter 11
“I’m taking you off the Baxter case.”
Chief Annie looked at him from the other side of the desk. Matt wrinkled his forehead. The chief had closed the door behind him as he entered her office. This was serious.
“The bar stabbing case? Why? I have it almost wrapped up?” he said, confused.
What was this? Didn’t she think he could handle it?
“Annie, I’m almost…”
She lifted her hand to stop him. “I need you elsewhere, Matt, that’s why.”
“Elsewhere? What’s going on?”
She scratched her forehead, then exhaled. “I am lending you to Miami-Dade County. You’re going to work on this case with a detective down there; his name is Charles Carter.”
She pushed a file toward Matt, and he took it. He opened it and looked down at it then up at her.
“But this is…?”
She nodded. “I need you on it, Matt.”
“But Annie, this is…?”
She leaned forward. “I need you to do this. I want you to keep an eye on the investigation. Report back to me.”
“But don’t they know that I’m personally involved in this?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No.”
Matt nodded pensively, then looked at the file, skimming a couple of pages. It was odd to see the woman he loved described like this.
“She was last seen in Leisure City,” Annie said. “A small town down south close to Miami. She struck a spa and a massage parlor down there. Miami-Dade has put out a warrant for her arrest, just as the Brevard County Sheriff has one out for what she did in Rockledge, and Broward County Sheriff’s office has one out for what she did in Ft. Lauderdale. She’s wanted for fraud, theft, assault and battery. You need to get her home before she digs herself in so deep there is no turning back.”
Matt exhaled and felt his pulse quicken as he flipped through the case file.
“Listen, Matt. I need you down there to make sure she comes out of this alive. I care about her too much to simply let her dig her own grave down there in the search for her daughter.”
Matt nodded. He grabbed the file, thinking this was going to be tough, but it was what was needed. He wanted Eva Rae home more than anyone.
“Any news on Piatkowski?” he asked, knowing that they were still trying to find Olivia that way.
“Our team is still trying to lure the Iron Fist out through the Dark Web, but so far, he hasn’t taken the bait.”
Matt cleared his throat, then stood to his feet.
“I’ll go home and pack a bag, then leave right away.”
Annie pulled into half a smile.
“Bring her home in one piece, will you?”
“I’ll do my best. You know I will.”
Chapter 12
I refused to go down to the restaurant and eat, so Sydney ordered us room service while I roamed the Internet on the laptop that Sydney had bought me in Palm Bay. I hadn’t logged onto any social media on it, nor had I checked my email, knowing they might try and find me that way. But I used it for research, and now I was trying to find the clip I had seen on TV from the local TV station’s webpage.
Later on, Sydney went to bed while I continued my search, not coming up with anything. I was beginning to think that maybe Sydney was right, and I was just seeing what I wanted to because I missed my daughter so much. Still, it nagged me. Something deep down inside of me told me it was her. What if she was on that platform when those trains were attacked? The thought worried me deeply. Was she exposed to the gas? Was she in the hospital?
I grabbed my phone and started calling the hospitals nearby that I knew some of the passengers had been sent to, but no one by her name had been treated there, they said.
Maybe she could have been admitted under another name?
I found more footage from the scene shown on the day of the attack and played it. A reporter was reporting live from the station, standing outside of the building, while ambulances were parked behind her.
I leaned back in my chair and listened to her words, my eyes fixated on what went on behind her when suddenly something caught my eye. A guy was standing behind her, looking confused while talking to a paramedic. I stared at him, then stopped the clip and looked at his face.
I know him.
There was no doubt. This was Ryan. Ryan Scott. Jack and Michelle’s oldest son. They were a couple we had been friends with back in Washington, back when the kids were younger, and Chad and I were still an item. They had a younger son too, Blake, who was the same age as our Christine and went to the same school. We had hung out often when the kids were younger, until my job took over so much that I had no time for a social life anymore and neither of us really wanted to go to a dinner, pretending to be this perfect couple that we no longer were.
What was Ryan doing in Miami? Had he been on the train? Had he maybe seen my Olivia?
Chanc
es were small, but not impossible.
I tapped my fingernails on the desk, wondering how I could contact his parents and ask for Ryan’s info, then closed the lid on the computer, deciding to call them from a burner phone the next day. I stared into thin air, a million thoughts running through my mind, then rose to my feet and stared at Miami from my window. There was no way I could sleep knowing Olivia was out there in this big city somewhere.
I grabbed the car keys, wrote Sydney a note, then left the hotel room. I drove to downtown Miami, cruising through the streets, looking at the nightlife, staring at every girl or young woman I laid my eyes on, thinking it could be her; it could be my Olivia.
And then I spotted her. Standing on a corner by a streetlight, just as a car drove up to her and rolled down the window.
Chapter 13
“Oh, no, you don’t!”
I parked the car on the side of the road, then grabbed my gun from my ankle-holster, and stormed out toward them.
“Freeze!”
The girl, who was wearing a short skirt and way too much make up for her age, pulled out from the window and looked directly at me. The sight made my heart drop.
It wasn’t her.
It was a young girl about the same age who looked very much like her. She had a bad bruise on her cheek, and from one look into her eyes, I could tell she was drugged.
I lowered the gun, my heart pounding. The girl took one look at me, then took off running while the car drove off, tires skidding on the asphalt.
I stared in the direction the girl had disappeared, then put the gun away in its holster, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before her pimp and his friends would come for me.
She’s someone’s daughter.
I backed up and went back to the Mustang convertible that Sydney had bought for us after we ditched the minivan in Leisure City. I thought it was too flashy, but she had argued that this was what the tourists drove down here, and if we wanted to blend in, this was the way.
I had to admit; she had a point. With her big hats and scarves and the car, we did look like most of the tourists in this town. And I was beginning to think that the place we stayed was smart too. The people looking for me would never think to look for me at the big expensive hotels. They’d be searching the motels and creepy places where people thought it was easy to hide. And since we were using Sydney’s credit cards, it left no trace back to me, since no one — except the people closest to me — knew that she was my sister.
I got back behind the wheel, then took off into the warm night, continuing through town, even driving through Overtown, the worst part of Miami. I made a lot of heads turn, but no one tried anything. I stared into the face of every girl I saw and couldn’t help but see Olivia everywhere. So many young girls working the streets, it was unbearable.
What was she doing on that Metrorail platform? Why was she there? Who was she with?
I decided to drive to Government Center and stood for a long time outside of the train station, staring at the leftover crime scene tape, while wondering where Olivia was and if she was all right. Had she inhaled any of the gas? Was she out there somewhere sick and in need of help? Was anyone taking care of her?
“Please, God, help me find her. Help me figure out if it was really her that I saw. Was I just imagining it like I was with that other girl on the street? Or was it really her?”
A tear escaped the corner of my eye, and I let it roll down my cheek. I didn’t even have my pictures of her since I had left my phone on the kitchen counter at my house when I left. I only had this paper school photo with me that I used to show people when asking about her, trying to dig my way through the underground world of trafficking in Florida. It was two years old, and she still had long hair back then.
In a weak moment, I dialed Matt’s number on my burner phone.
“Hello?”
He sounded sleepy, and I guessed that I had woken him.
“Hello…? Is anyone there?”
I miss you, Matt. I miss your arms and your smile. I miss being with you.
I closed my eyes and held the phone tight to my ear, thinking about hugging him, smelling him, and feeling his strong arms around me.
“Eva Rae? Is that you?”
Pause. A deep sigh.
“Where are you, Eva Rae?”
I hung up, tears streaming down my cheeks, heart pounding in my chest. I was risking everything by doing what I was doing, but it was what I had to do. I had to do this for my daughter. I just prayed that Matt would understand that.
“I love you, Matt,” I said to the dead phone and threw it in the trash.
I had never said the words to his face, and as I got back into the Mustang and it roared to life, I wondered if I was ever going to get the chance.
Chapter 14
“Ryan Scott?”
The man in the doorway looked at me skeptically through the crack. I had knocked on the door to his apartment after getting the address from his mother that same morning. Apparently, Ryan was in Miami because he was doing a summer internship at a local paper, she had told me. He had been on his way to work when the attack happened.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“You don’t recognize me? I’m Eva Rae Thomas; well, I used to be Wilson back then in Washington. I know your parents, Jack and Michelle?”
He stared at me from behind the chain. “The FBI agent?”
I nodded. Sydney stood behind me, keeping her distance. “Yes, that’s me.”
“And who is she?”
“My sister. She’s with me down here while we… Didn’t your mom tell you I would stop by?”
“Maybe. What do you want?”
“I just want to talk to you for a second. Can we come in? Please? It’s important.”
Ryan stared at me, scrutinizing me, then finally opened the chain on the door and let us inside. The small one-bedroom condo was a mess — pizza boxes everywhere, trash bags that should have been taken out long ago, clothes scattered on the floor and the furniture.
“What’s going on here, Ryan?” I asked as we came into the living room. “Have you been out of the condo at all since the attack?”
He ran a hand through his greasy hair. “I’m just having a little trouble getting outside. It’s nothing.”
“You’re scared,” I said. “It’s only natural. But what about your summer internship?”
He shrugged. “I called it in right when it happened. I gave them the story, so they were the first to break it. But the next day, I couldn’t get out of my condo, I was so scared it would happen again, so I called in sick. I haven’t been there since. I can’t seem to get past the door. I just need a little time; that’s all. It’ll get better.”
I felt sad for him as I found a space on the couch that wasn’t covered in old clothes or trash and sat down. This wasn’t good.
“But that is actually why we’re here,” I said. “To talk to you about the attack.”
Ryan’s nostrils flared slightly, and he stared at me with wide open eyes. He rubbed his hair manically.
“The attack? Huh? W-what about it?”
He went to close the blinds on the window, then turned to look at me.
“You were on the train when the gas was released,” I said. “What did you see?”
“I didn’t see much,” he said, still frantically rubbing his hair. “And if I did, I don’t remember much of it.”
“But what do you remember? Please?”
“I remember a liquid on the floor. It was coming out of a plastic bag. I remember seeing it, then somehow, I don’t know why, maybe it was because I felt it stinging in my eyes, but I just knew I had to get out. So, I did, at Civic Center. I changed cars to the one behind it where there was no gas. I had no way of knowing that, though. It was dumb luck, I guess. They say it saved my life that I changed cars when I did.”
“But you saw all the people who got sick, and some even died. That must have been terrifying. Did you see anything else?
”
He thought it over for a while, then shook his head. “It was all so chaotic; I don’t know.”
I bit my cheek, then said. “Do you remember my daughter, Olivia?”
He gave me a look, rubbed his neck, then nodded. “The one with the red hair who played with my brother?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s Christine. This is Olivia,” I said and pulled out the old school photo. “She has short hair now.”
He shook his head. “Maybe, I don’t know.”
“Look at it again, Ryan, please. I have reason to believe she might have been on the same train as you that day. I think I saw her on a surveillance clip on TV. She’s been missing for three months, all summer, and I need to find her. Did you see her?”
He stared at the photo, then shook his head. “Maybe, I don’t know. The police have been asking me about so many people, and I don’t remember any faces. They say the gas might have affected my memory and maybe even made me paranoid.”
I felt tears well up in my eyes but refused to let them overwhelm me. I had been so certain Ryan could help me.
“Look at the picture again, will you? Please?”
He did, then shook his head, fiddling nervously with his shirt. “I…I’m sorry.”
I rose to my feet and looked at Sydney, who gave me back a glance of sympathy.
“I am sorry to have disturbed you,” I said and went for the door.
“There is something,” he suddenly said.
I turned around.
“What?”
“There is something that I keep seeing. I see it in my dreams and sometimes even when awake.”
“What is it?” I asked, a little harsher than I wanted to. “Ryan? What is it? Tell me; it might be important.”
He rubbed his eyes. Then he scribbled something on a note and handed it to me.
“I keep seeing this…this symbol. I think it was a tattoo or something on an ankle, I think. Maybe a wrist. I keep seeing it. I don’t know. It might be nothing. It’s just that, the past few days, I keep dreaming about it and seeing it everywhere. Again, it might be nothing.”
