by A J Rivers
“They were doing everything they were supposed to do,” he says.
“That’s exactly what I thought.”
“Five years ago,” he clarifies.
I pause. “What do you mean?”
“She disappeared five years ago. There hasn’t really been any more development into what happened to her. No one has found any evidence that she is dead, or that she’s been through torture. Nothing has really changed. But they were devastated,” he says.
“It can be hard when things are brought back up,” Dean offers. “Maybe they hadn’t thought much about it over the last few years, and it was just fresh to them.”
“They’re still young,” Xavier says. “This is still new in a lot of ways. And they lied about what they experienced the day she went missing. That doesn’t leave you. They’ve been carrying that with them all these years. But only now are they showing anything.”
“You think they were faking it?” I ask.
“I don’t think they are faking the emotion they’re showing. I only wonder what is behind that emotion. You said the two of them didn’t seem particularly emotional when they were showing you around the woods,” he says.
“Not overtly, no. I mean, they seemed a little sad. They teared up a bit. But they weren’t crying or resisting going back to those locations,” I say. “It didn’t look as if they were bothered being there at all. Even though Allison specifically mentioned she hadn’t been there since showing the police around.”
“What questions did they ask you?” he asks.
“None,” I say. “They didn’t want to know what our investigation has uncovered or if there’s a specific reason we were investigating her again.”
“Could they feel her there?” Xavier asks. “Did it seem as if they could still see her or they knew where she would be standing?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Look at when some of these pictures were taken,” Dean says. “A few of these were taken leading up to the day she went missing. Even though her parents said she hadn’t been doing anything because of the rain.”
“As far as I know,” I said.
“Then there’s nothing on the day she went missing.”
“But there’s one on the day after,” I say, noticing the details for the first time.
“What?” Dean asks.
“Look.” I point it out. ”This picture has a timestamp on it. As they all do. But this one shows it was taken and automatically uploaded the day after her friends noticed she was missing.”
“But what is it?” Dean asks. “You can’t even see where she is or what she’s taking a picture of.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. But we need to try to find that out,” I say.
He nods. ”I can have some guys look at it. See if they can enhance any of it and maybe figure out what it shows.”
“This tells me she didn’t look at her social media again after she was at the campground with Allison and Vivian. She would probably have deleted this picture,” I say.
“That’s something,” Dean says.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I don’t know what. But it’s something.”
My phone rings and I pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Emma?” Ava says.
I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Yes, Ava,” I say.
“I was just wondering about the investigation. If anything significant came out? I couldn’t really follow along when the investigators were talking to you,” she asks.
“Ava, I am right in the middle of another investigation that is more pressing than what’s going on at the campground right now. I really can’t stop and go over all the details with you,” I say.
“Just wait,” Ava says as I start to end the call. “I’m supposed to be learning from you. I’m supposed to be involved in these investigations.”
“No,” I say. “You’re supposed to be shadowing me on the investigation that is being handled by the FBI. This is not your first case, Ava. And the investigation I’m doing with Dean has nothing to do with the Bureau.”
“I still might be able to help,” she says.
I hear another call coming in on the other line.
“I’m going to have to go,” I say. “I’m getting another call.”
“Emma, I know we didn’t get off to the best start. I’m not always great with people. And I came into this wanting to impress you.”
Dean answers his phone and I see his eyes get wide.
“It’s Eric,” he says. “He called me when he couldn’t get through to you. Bellamy is in labor.”
Twenty-Two
I don’t remember getting off the phone with Eric. It’s entirely possible I didn’t. Everything that happens in the next few minutes is a blur as I try to shove clothes in a bag as fast as I can and get dressed. Soon we are on the road, but the trip seems to stretch on impossibly long.
I’ve done this drive countless times. It’s never felt quite so much as if somebody has the other end of the road and is unfurling it like a piece of ribbon under my car. It feels as though no matter how fast I think I’m driving, I’m not actually getting anywhere.
“Don’t get too worked up,” Dean says as I let out a spiel of expletives when a light turns red in front of me. “Eric said it’s just the beginning. She’s still in early labor, and her doctors don’t seem to think that there’s any rush. We’re only about three hours away. Everything’s going to be fine.”
I try to take the words to heart, but all I can think about is the possibility of missing the baby’s being born. Bellamy has told me over and over since she announced her pregnancy how important it is to her that I’m there. And it’s important to me. Bellamy has been there for me through some of the hardest times of my adult life. She’s also seen me through my happiest times.
I want to experience this with her. Bellamy is as much family as my father, just like the others. This new baby is our next generation. She’ll carry on not just Bellamy’s and Eric’s genes, but the traditions and memories that come from the rest of us as well.
After we’ve been on the road for about an hour, I call Sam and let him know what’s going on. He’s closer to the hospital than I am, so we should be arriving close together.
“Try not to worry,” Xavier says. “Send good thoughts to the baby. Good energy. She is a brand-new person getting ready to start her journey on this Earth. Make a good impression for the rest of us.”
“Do you think I have some sort of cosmic connection to the baby so that it can feel my energy and know what I’m thinking?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Xavier says. “You’ve talked to her a lot.”
“So have you,” I counter.
“Yes,” he says. “But I don’t feel we’ve truly bonded. It seems there’s a barrier between us, but I feel we are working through that.”
This is one of those moments with Xavier when I’m not sure if he’s being serious or telling a joke. He very rarely gives any sort of emotion or signal to let us know. Now he’s just staring out the window, so I don’t bother to react at all.
Another hour passes and we end up stuck in traffic, bringing our progress down to a crawl. In general, I try to hold myself together. I try to be at least somewhat in control of myself when in public. This is not one of those moments when it’s working out for me.
Slamming my hands against the steering wheel, I let out a growl of frustration and shout a few unflattering suggestions to the cars around me.
“They’re not going to move any faster withif you scream at them,” Dean tells me. “You’re not going to vaporize the cars so wecan get down the road more easily.”
“She might,” Xavier offers.
“I just don’t understand why people in this absurd town seem to completely lose their abilities to function and operate motor vehicles as soon as they are within the city limits. What is it about these streets that apparently removes driving capabilities?” I gripe.
>
“Their unforgiving and confusing wheel-and-spoke arrangement overlapping a classic grid layout?” Xavier suggests. “It’s difficult at best, homicide-inducing at worst.”
“These people have GPS systems built into their cars for the most part. They literally have little voices telling them what’s coming next and what to do at essentially every given moment. All they have to do is follow little lines and do what the voices tell them to do,” I say. “And yet we sit here for ever-increasing amounts of time waiting for people to figure out what the hell they’re doing.”
“Would it help you through if I sang a song to pass the time?” Xavier asks.
Without my answering, he bursts into a rendition of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”.
“Xavier,” Dean says.
“Not the right choice?” he asks. “How about an interactive song? Five hundred bottles of beer on the wall, five hundred bottles of beer. You take one down, pass it around,” he uses the back of his hand to smack the ceiling, window, and seat behind him in tempo. “Four hundred ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.”
I’m not even going to try to stop him. It takes all the way to three hundred bottles of beer for us to get to the hospital. My parking is haphazard at best, but I toss my keys back in so Dean can straighten it out if he wants to, and I run inside. I get on the elevator to ride up to the maternity floor, trying not to think about the last time I was here.
When the doors open, I rush to the information desk and ask for Bellamy.
“I can’t send you back right now,” the nurse tells me. “But I will let them know you’re here.”
He gestures toward a brightly lit waiting room. I can already tell that’s not going to work out.
“Would you be able to lower the lights in there?” I ask. “Just a little?”
“Lower the lights?” the nurse asks.
“One of the people who’s going to be waiting with me is going to be up here in just a few moments and he doesn’t handle bright lights well. If we’re going to be here for a couple of hours, the light in there is going to push him right to the edge.”
An understanding nod and a flick of a couple of switches later, the waiting room is at a much more comfortable level of lighting for Xavier. I can’t absolutely guarantee he’s going to handle it well, being in a hospital for so long, but at least it will help if he’s not overwhelmed by the lights, too.
I make a cursory search of the waiting area and take stock of what’s in the vending machines so I can fill him and Dean in when they get inside. But all that completely loses my attention when I see Eric come in.
Running toward him, I gather him in a close hug.
“How is she?” I ask.
“Powering through,” he says. “They say she is definitely in labor, but it’s still pretty early in terms of how far along she’s progressed. They’ve got her hooked up to a monitor right now to make sure everything’s going well with the baby.”
“She should be walking,” Xavier announces, coming into the waiting room. “Gravity. Hi, Eric. Happy baby emergence day, assuming all body parts are fully independent of Bellamy before midnight.”
“Thank you, Xavier.”
“Can I go back and see her?” I ask.
“Absolutely. She’s been asking when you were going to get here. Come on,” he says.
“Dean, look out for Sam. He should be here any time now. Let him know I’m back with Bellamy,” I say.
He nods as he tries to work a remote hanging in a plastic sheath from a cord attached to the TV. He’s ready to settle in for the long haul.
Eric and I hurry out of the waiting room and through doors that lead us into the halls of the maternity ward. He opens the door to one of the rooms and I step through. A curtain separates the door from the bed, and I call out to Bellamy.
“B?”
“Emma! You’re here!”
I walk around the curtain and find her propped up in bed, attached to the monitor beeping beside her. Even with her hair clipped onto her head in a messy bun and wearing a pink paisley hospital gown, she looks beautiful.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, taking her hand and leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“Doing okay right now,” she tells me. “The contractions are getting stronger, but they haven’t gotten regular enough yet.”
I remember what Xavier said and pull the blankets off her. “You should be up out of that bed. Come on. Let’s get you walking around. Gravity will get things going for you.”
“I’m attached to things, Emma,” she protests.
“Well, call the nurse. Get unattached. We’ve got to get those contractions going.”
Eric laughs. “And you were just saying you wished you’d gotten a doula.”
“Should have known I already had one,” Bellamy chuckles.
She presses the call button on the side of her bed, and a few moments later a nurse appears at the door.
“Everything alright?” she asks.
“Can I get up and walk?” Bellamy asks.
“Absolutely,” the nurse says. “You’ve been on that monitor long enough. Getting some laps in will help move things along.”
“Told you,” I say.
“Xavier told you,” she counters.
“How did you know that?”
She looks at me and I just nod. The nurse disconnects the monitor and helps Bellamy up. She’s wearing hospital-issued socks with grippy bottoms, so she doesn’t have to put shoes on before we’re on our way. Eric and I walk along with her up and down the hallways, talking about anything and everything to keep her distracted.
We’ve only been walking for a few minutes when she suddenly draws in a sharp breath. Turning to Eric, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans against his chest. Eric puts his hands on her hips and holds her, swaying her back and forth as he whispers into her ear.
It’s surprisingly beautiful. I find myself blinking away tears.
A few moments later, we continue on our way. This process repeats several more times before the nurse catches up with us at the corner near her room.
“The doctor wants you to come back in for another check,” she says.
“I’m going to go see Sam,” I say. “I’ll come back in a little while. Do you need anything?”
Bellamy shakes her head and I look at Eric.
“Some coffee would be amazing,” he says. ”I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep the last few days, and I have a feeling I’m not going to be getting much in the next couple, either.”
“No problem. See you in a bit,” I say.
As they head into the room, I make my way back to the waiting area. Sam is standing at the vending machine just outside. He’s gripping several bills in one hand and deeply contemplating the snacks and drinks inside the machine.
“Hey,” I say.
He turns around, his face lighting up when he sees me. In an instant, his arms are wrapped around me, his face buried in the curve of my neck and shoulder.
“I missed you,” he says.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I say. “What are you focusing so hard on?”
“I can’t decide what kind of snack to get,” he says. “I already looked through all the machines in the waiting room, but I can’t settle on anything.”
“Well, don’t ask Xavier to help you choose. That would get you into a whole conversation you are not ready for yet.”
“How is Bellamy?” he asks.
“Doing well. We got up and walked around a bit. Her contractions seem to be getting more frequent. But I wouldn’t expect anything to happen within the next couple of hours,” I tell him.
“So, I should probably settle in with a couple of snacks?” he asks.
I nod. “I would go for the full assortment. Whatever catches your eye, grab it.”
He takes that suggestion to heart and chooses several snacks and drinks before we make our way back into the waiting room. Xavier has taken up residence on a giant teddy bear and is lying on
the floor staring up at the TV that Dean managed to tune to a game show channel.
“Nothing yet,” I tell them. “Looks as though we’ve still got a ways to go. I’m going to the cafeteria to get Eric some coffee. Anybody want anything?”
“One of those clear cups with the little jiggly squares of gelatin and whipped topping,” Xavier says. “They always have those at hospitals. Green. Blue if absolutely necessary. A banana if they only have red.”
Twenty-Three
“Two hundred eighty-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Two hundred eighty-nine bottles of… oh. Maybe that’s inappropriate considering our setting.”
“I think it’s fine, Xavier.”
“No, I don’t want to be perceived as a negative influence so early on in this life. It’s fine. I’ll change it. Two hundred eighty-nine bottles of milk on the wall. Two hundred eighty-nine bottles of milk.”
He pauses.
“You okay?”
“Now I’m worried I’m mom-shaming. I’ve heard that phrase. Is that what I’m doing? Bottles of milk. Should it be bottles of formula? Or is that discouraging natural feeding? Two hundred eighty-nine mammary glands of milk on the wall.”
“No!” Dean and Sam say simultaneously.
“Well, it’s definitely not that,” I say, groaning slightly as I pull myself up to a sitting position from where I was lying on the giant bear pointed in the opposite direction as Xavier.
“How about root beer, Xavier?” Dean suggests.
“I like root beer,” he nods.
“There we go,” Dean says.
Xavier dives back into his song and I head for the desk to call Eric. Bellamy hasn’t been progressing as quickly as they would like her to, so about an hour ago they started giving her Pitocin to encourage her contractions along. They paired it with an epidural to help her get some rest and she’s been trying to sleep to help her get through the rest of labor.
A few moments later, Eric comes to the door and ushers me through. Bellamy is awake and seems to be moving along a lot quicker than the last time I saw her. She’s sitting on a labor ball, bouncing as she breathes through a contraction.
