by Willow Rose
Chris just stares at the papers, then up at me. I can tell he really doesn’t want to have to read it. He sighs and drinks his Loco Cocoa Latte. He even looks at his watch, as if to tell me he doesn’t have time for this.
“It fits, Chris,” I say. “The dates do.”
He finally grabs the articles and flips through them so fast there is no way he could read anything.
“So, what you’re saying is, these mothers…”
“They’re all single mothers,” I interrupt. “That’s a pattern.”
“All right, these single mothers. You’re telling me they have all disappeared with their children? Where is the crime? They could all have left town or something.” He picks out an article and reads a few lines. “Like this one, for instance, it says here in the article that she was a drug addict and moved often.”
“That’s exactly how I reacted in the first place as well, but the dates are very strange, and some of them left all their belongings behind. Even passports and children’s iPads. You don’t leave your kid’s iPad behind willingly,” I say, matter-of-factly.
“But it says here they did take their phones and wallets,” he says.
“Sure, but why leave your passport?” I argue.
“Where is the last one? You said there were four?”
“Well, the last one was never reported to the police,” I say, hoping to avoid too many questions. I want him to know that Maria and Tara are missing, but I also made a promise to Danny to not tell anyone that she was his daughter. At least not until he has told Junior about her himself, which I know he is building up the courage to do, but knowing Danny it might take a while. There is nothing worse for him than to have to disappoint someone he loves.
“So, how do you know they’re missing?” he asks, puzzled.
“Well, I just know. Because I know them. I wrote all the details in this document here,” I say, and point at a Word document. “Their names are Maria and Tara Verlinden. I spoke to Maria’s mother yesterday and she has no idea where they are. They left everything behind. I don’t think they disappeared willingly.”
“But she never filed a missing persons report? That sounds a little odd to me,” Fisher says, drinking his coffee.
“I know it sounds odd, but she didn’t because she has no relationship with her daughter, and well…she took the money that Maria received for child support, because she…you’re not even listening anymore, are you?”
Chris shakes his head and leans back in his armchair. “Come on, Mary. This is far out. Besides, I can’t go into this if there isn’t proof of a crime being committed. You know that. I have other stuff on my plate. Lots of stuff. We have to take care of the dog problem too.”
I look up at him. “What dog problem? You don’t mean people walking on the beach with dogs, do you? Please tell me that is not what keeps you busy?”
He rubs his forehead, squirming in his seat. This is embarrassing for him. “It’s just that…well tourists are complaining…”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I say a little too loud.
Some of the other guests in the café turn their heads and look at me. I smile and pretend everything is fine.
“It’s political, Mary. There isn’t much I can do about it.”
“Argh!” I exclaim. “How can that be more important than missing women and their children?”
“It’s not,” he says, annoyed. “But again, where is the evidence that a crime has been committed?”
“How about the missing persons reports? Some of their families have filed missing persons reports.”
“And the cases have been closed. It says so here, in the article about the woman who went missing in April 2014. They closed it, concluding she had left town. I have to say it all looks like coincidence here, Mary. I can’t see how they are related.” He throws out his arms. “I’m really sorry.”
“But the dates,” I say, tapping my pointer finger at the page with the dates. “Look at the dates. If this is a pattern, then another mother and her child will disappear tomorrow. How can you close your eyes to that? We have to do something at least. How else will you be able to sleep tonight?”
He sighs and rubs his hair. “Mary. You’re blowing this way out of proportion. People leave town all the time. Especially single mothers. They run away from their families, they leave because they meet a guy, or they leave because of drugs. Maybe they owe money, maybe they know someone in another state who can give them a job. Drug addicts leave their belongings behind because they don’t think. They just go to for their next fix; maybe they didn’t plan on staying, maybe they just stay there for a longer period of time than expected because someone is providing them with the drug they need. It’s not that strange. Besides, if I were to believe that someone would disappear tomorrow, a mother and a child, how would I prevent that from happening? These women come from all over the county. Do you want us to tell all single mothers to stay home tomorrow?”
I sigh. I know he is right. We have no way of knowing who or where this will happen again or if it even will. There really isn’t much anyone can do. I just feel bad for Danny that we can’t get the police to help him find his daughter. But he told me so. Danny said they wouldn’t take this seriously. And he was right.
I collect the papers and make them a pile again. Chris grabs my hand. I look into his eyes.
“You know what?” he says. “You have been right about these kinds of things before. You have a hunch, I’ll give you that. Let me take a look at these cases and see what I can come up with, all right?”
I smile and let go of the copies. “You’re a good guy, Chris,” I say. “Even though you hide it well.”
Chapter Forty-Two
April 2016
It’s pick-up day.
Saturday morning Boxer is looking at his own reflection in the mirror. He is calm. In the beginning, when he did his first pick-up, he was nervous, afraid something might go wrong. He’s not anymore. So far, all of them have gone well. And he is getting better at it.
He splashes water in his face while remembering the other times. He doesn’t like it much. He doesn’t like the way they scream, the way they plead and beg for him to let them go. He can still hear each and every one of them when he thinks about it. So he tries not to. But when a new pick-up date arrives, it is hard to keep those memories away. He has been dreaming about it all night, especially about the girls.
Boxer walks downstairs where his brother is still sleeping on the couch. He came back the night before, drunk and with a new debt. Boxer just paid the three hundred thousand from last week and now he has to help him out with another five hundred thousand. It stresses him out, since he doesn’t have that kind of money on hand, not when he has to pay for their mother’s hospice as well. Hopefully he will…after today.
“Get up, bro,” he says, and grabs his brother’s shoulder. He shakes it. Nothing happens. His brother smells of liquor. Boxer hates that smell. He never touches alcohol. He has seen what it has done to his brother.
“Get up. I need your help today,” he says.
His brother finally blinks. Boxer doesn’t understand why he insists on sleeping on the couch when he has a perfectly good guest bedroom upstairs that he could crash in.
“Help? With what?”
“I have an order for a pick-up.”
His brother sits up and wipes his eyes with a yawn. “All right. Give me a few minutes to get ready.”
“I’ll make some coffee,” Boxer says, and walks into the kitchen.
“How about some of your famous pancakes?” his brother asks.
Boxer smiles. “Sure. Why not?”
He starts to whip together some batter while suppressing the growing anxiety inside that he senses when thinking about today’s task. He doesn’t want to feel it. He doesn’t want to feel anything, but it is hard not to.
His brother puts on his pants and comes into the kitchen. He smells and Boxer makes a grimace.
“Go get a shower,�
�� he says. “There’s still time.”
His brother does as he is told and comes down ten minutes later, his hair wet, and smelling a lot better. He grabs the coffee pot and pours himself a cup.
“So, where are we doing this pick-up today?” he asks, while Boxer finishes making the pancakes. He serves them for his brother while grabbing some yogurt with granola and fruit for himself. Boxer doesn’t like to eat unhealthy. He wants to take care of his body.
“There’s a rally today,” he says while they eat. “People are protesting the fish-kill in the lagoon.”
“And that’s where we pick them up?”
“Yes. They will be there.”
“Lots of people, though. Kind of risky, don’t you think?” his brother asks. His brother has helped him do most of the pick-ups and knows how it works. There was only that one time when he was on a bender that Boxer had to do it alone. Most of the money goes to pay for his gambling anyway, so it’s only fair that he helps out, Boxer thinks.
“They won’t even notice,” Boxer says. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Chapter Forty-Three
April 2016
“We’re going to be late, Mom!”
Paige yells at Nicky as they rush out the door with signs in their hands. Nicky’s says Save our water. There’s no Planet B! while Paige’s simply says, It’s my future you’re messing with.
Nicky really likes the slogans they have come up with and feels confident that they’ll be able to shake the politicians up a little today. She has been looking forward to this day all week. Mrs. Robbins is in Miami all weekend, so now she has time to spend with her daughter. Going to this rally is a great way to bond a little over something important.
They drive to downtown and park behind city hall. They’re early, but the space is already almost filled up. The Intracoastal waters and a bunch of dead fish are something that can get people to rise up from their couches.
Nicky is happy to see that so many people care. They grab their signs and walk to the front of city hall, where a sizable group has gathered. Nicky sees a handful of women she knows from Paige’s school and walks to them. Paige is falling a little behind. She doesn’t seem too interested in this rally and it aggravates Nicky, since she wants her daughter to know the importance of taking good care of the environment. It is, after all, her future they’re rallying for.
“Hi ladies,” she chirps and waves at her friends.
“Hello there, stranger,” her friend Belinda says and kisses her on her cheeks. “Long time no see.”
“Well, you know. Been kind of busy with the company and all.”
“How’s it going with that?”
“It’s been good. Yeah. It’s been busy, real busy.”
“I want you to meet someone,” Belinda says and pulls Nicky’s arm.
She drags her towards a chunky woman standing with a camera between her hands. “This here is Mary Mills. You know…the famous blogger. Mary, this is Nicky. Her daughter Paige is in sixth grade.”
Mary reaches out her hand and shakes Nicky’s. “Nice to meet you,” she says, and smiles warmly.
“Mary is writing about the rally for her blog. Isn’t it exciting? She has like five million followers on that thing.”
“Well, I’m technically writing about the fish-kill and what caused it, but I will be writing stuff about the rally as well, and I’ll post some of the pictures I take today,” Mary says. She has a nice smile.
“Good, good,” Belinda says. “Oh, that’s excellent. Soon the entire world will know what’s going on down here. That’ll get them out of their chairs, don’t ya’ think?” she says and pokes her elbow at Nicky.
Nicky nods. “That is awesome.”
“Would it be alright if I took your picture?” Mary says. “You’ve got an awesome sign. Is that your daughter standing behind you?”
Nicky turns to look at Paige, who stares angrily back at her. “You said there would be other kids.”
“They’re coming, sweetie,” Nicky says. “Now come here and smile for the camera. Hold up your sign so Mary can see it. There you go.”
They pose and smile and Mary Mills takes a bunch of photos, then smiles and thanks them. “If you follow me on Facebook, I’ll post all the pictures there during the day today,” she says. “Are you on Facebook?”
Nicky nods. “Yes. Both Paige and I are. We would love to see them.”
“Is your husband here as well?” Mary asks and looks around. “I’d love to get a picture of the entire family rallying together for the future of our children.”
Nicky feels heavy. She hates when people ask about Paige’s father. “No. It’s just the two of us,” she says.
“Okay. Say no more. I’m a single mom myself. One last thing. What’s your last name?”
“Stover.”
Mary writes the name down on a small pad, then looks up at Nicky with a smile. “Great. Then I’ll tag you so you can see them once they’re up.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Nicky feels a tug at her shirt. “Mom, I saw some of my friends from school. Can I walk with them?”
Finally, Paige seems to be onboard. “Well, of course, honey, Nicky says. “Remember to yell as loud as you can while you walk and put your sign up in the air. Make yourself be heard!”
Chapter Forty-Four
April 2016
I don’t feel good. I try to suppress the feeling of dread that is constantly nagging at me while I take pictures and talk to people at the rally. It’s not the fish-kill that’s bothering me. It’s not the many stories people are feeding me of how the local politicians are trying to cover up the real cause of the fish-kill, no that’s not why I feel sick to my stomach.
It’s the hunch.
The feeling that something bad is going to happen. The knowledge that someone might disappear today, that a single mother somewhere might vanish along with her child, and no one knows where to.
I keep looking around at the crowd, staring at the faces of all these people. Most of them are women. Some have brought their children. As a single mother myself, I am terrified. A few minutes ago, I talked to a single mother with a little girl a few years older than Salter. Could it be her? Is she next? Am I? Was it planned, what happened to them, or was it random?
I comfort myself by telling myself that it doesn’t have to be right here in Cocoa Beach that the next disappearance is happening. It could be anywhere in the surrounding towns. Rockledge, Titusville, Merritt Island, Viera. Maria and Tara lived almost in Cape Canaveral.
Am I overreacting? Am I blowing this out of proportion like Chris Fisher said? I don’t know. But the feeling won’t go away. It is sitting in my stomach and eating at me, slowly devouring me, making me anxious for every face in this crowd, including myself.
I am just happy that Salter is with his dad. I spoke to him before I went to bed last night and he had been to school and was doing fine, he told me. I hope he wasn’t lying to me.
You’ve got to let it go, Mary. Let it go. You can’t control everything for the rest of his life.
“Any news?” Chloe asks, as she comes up next to me.
“Good morning,” I say cheerfully.
I can’t believe she is here. I am amazed that I managed to talk her into coming with me for this. I didn’t expect her to show up. She hates crowds and she hates being outside and usually sleeps at this hour of the day. Judging from the look on her face, she isn’t exactly enjoying it. In the bright sunlight she looks paler than usual. I can’t see her eyes behind those dark sunglasses, but I know they’re not happy.
“I got a few leads that I want to follow up on,” I say. “You were right that there are a lot of rumors about the power plant.”
“I’m not talking about the fish-kill,” she says with a deep sigh that makes me want to spring for coffee for her. “What did Chris Fisher say? When you spoke to him yesterday?”
“He’ll look into it,” I say.
She turns her head and I thi
nk she is looking at me, but I can’t tell because of those sunglasses.
“He said that?”
“Believe it or not, he did. It took some convincing on my part, but that’s what he finally said before he left me.”
“I don’t see many cops here today, though,” she says and looks around us. We’re standing in the middle of the crowd, as it is slowly growing bigger when more people join in.
“They’re probably watching us from behind the windows while drinking coffee and eating cake,” I say, and look at the building behind us. “It is awfully convenient that the rally is right outside their door. But I did see one down in front of the fire station when I got here. I also heard they have blocked off the streets.”
“So what’s supposed to happen next?” Chloe asks, sounding highly uninterested.
“We’re supposed to walk down Minutemen yelling all the slogans,” I say. “I think they’re waiting for one of the organizers to step up and kind of start the whole thing. You know, take the lead. I heard that Theodor G is going to be here.”
“Oh, no. I can’t stand that guy. So pompous.”
“Well, everyone else loves him,” I say, getting a little annoyed with Chloe’s attitude. She’s ruining my mood. It’s enough that I have this anxious feeling inside of me, I don’t want to feel depressed as well.
“I loathe rallies,” Chloe says. “Too many people in one place. Everyone is so close together it’s yucky.”
“Yeah, but at least it’s for a good cause,” I say, trying to lift her spirits a little. Meanwhile, I grab the camera and take some more photos. My new subject is a dad with his young son helping him hold his sign.
“Cute.”
“As if this will ever help anything,” Chloe says with a scoff. “These people walking around with their signs singing hymns or yelling slogans won’t save the fish, if you ask me.”
“Don’t be so cynical. We gotta do what we can do, right?” I say. “This is all we as a community can do right now. Show the politicians that we are angry about this and that they should do something. Ah, look, News13 is here. That’s good. We need all the publicity we can get.”
