by Brenda Novak
“One way or another,” she said, then laughed. “How generous of you.”
“I didn’t ask for this to happen, Zoe.”
But she suspected he was relieved to be calling it quits. He’d been as smitten with obtaining the ideal as she was—had been eager to marry a young, attractive woman. But he wasn’t flexible enough to share his belongings, let alone his life. And now, being with her would mean seeing her through the worst nightmare imaginable to a mother. He’d already received a taste of it and wasn’t interested in more. He preferred to go back to his safe, methodical existence without worry about whether or not she was bringing in enough money to pay her portion of the bills. “Is it the ten thousand dollars, Anton? Is that the real problem?” she asked. “When it comes right down to it, you just can’t part with it, can you?” It wasn’t an entirely fair accusation. He was more worried about money than she would’ve liked, but she knew it wasn’t the reward that was breaking them up. She was just so…hurt and angry. And he retaliated in kind.
“Is that what you’re staying with me for? So I’ll supply the money and anything else you need?”
“You think I’ve been using you all along?”
When he wouldn’t answer, she knew. He wasn’t happy about being excluded from her confidence, but he could’ve forgiven that if she was truly in love with him. Knowing she wasn’t made him feel used—and he wasn’t willing to be played for a fool. His pride wouldn’t allow it. Neither would he risk so much on a relationship that couldn’t possibly last. She’d become a poor investment, a liability.
So what did that mean? She’d be left without her daughter, without her fiancé, without a home. And without a reward to offer for Samantha’s return.
Grabbing the bottle of gin from the table, she downed the last swallow with a grimace at the after-kick. Then she went to the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” he asked, following her.
“I’m leaving.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” he said, but there was more relief than conviction in his voice. If it was over between them, he preferred she leave now.
“I know.”
“Where will you go?”
“I have no idea.”
He watched her pack. “You’ll land on your feet, Zoe. Eventually. You’re a survivor.”
She didn’t bother turning to look at him. She was afraid she’d start laughing and never stop. “I appreciate the encouragement, Anton.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, he remained as serious as ever. “And I really hope you get Sam back. If…if you want, you can borrow the reward money. Pay me back later.”
Now he was trying to placate his conscience for letting her down. “No, thanks. I’ll figure out some other way.”
Suddenly eager to escape his presence, his house, his meaningless platitudes, she moved faster. Until now, she hadn’t realized how claustrophobic he made her feel. He drained all the color from life.
“I’m taking the Lexus,” she said.
“Of course. If it’ll help, I’ll make the next payment. You know, give you some breathing room until you find work.”
At last, she turned to face him. “That’s like telling someone who’s just lost a leg that you’ll provide a Band-Aid,” she said, and laughter got the better of her, after all.
CHAPTER 18
“I have a treat for you.” Tiffany smiled so brightly Sam somehow found the energy to sit up. Tiffany didn’t have to tell her what the treat was; she could see the piece of toast with jelly, could smell it.
“Why are you bringing me this?” she asked.
Tiffany lifted it high. “That sounded a bit sulky to me, miss.”
“I just…I don’t know why you’d bring me a treat.”
“Because I’m a nice person,” she said. “Why else would I do it? You know Colin wouldn’t like it. He’d probably make me go without dinner tonight if he knew. But I’m taking the risk. For you.”
This small kindness nearly brought tears to Samantha’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Doesn’t it smell delicious?” She waved it in front of Sam’s nose.
Sam’s mouth began to water. “Mmm hmm.”
“Did you eat some of your food today? So I can tell Colin you’re being a good doggie?”
“A little.” The pellets she’d choked down seemed to sit in her stomach. Weeks, days, hours ago—Samantha didn’t even know when—Tiffany had brought her a toothbrush and some toothpaste. But Sam had to use her water bowl in order to brush, which meant she either had to swallow the toothpaste or ruin her water. She’d chosen to swallow it to rid her mouth of the taste of dog food. Now the combination churned together in her stomach, making her queasy.
“Way to go! Then give me a smile. I won’t allow anyone to be sad around me today.”
Sam felt a slight burst of hope. “Is today…different?”
Tiffany shrugged and brought the bread within easy reach, but her smile widened almost wickedly as Sam’s eyes latched onto it. “You want this, don’t you,” she said with a laugh.
Sam wasn’t sure she could trust this new, playful side of Tiffany. Was she only pretending she’d give her the bread?
“Is that a yes?” Tiffany prompted when Sam hesitated.
She nodded.
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Show me a trick.”
Sam clenched her hands in the blanket. “What kind of trick?”
“Go to the bathroom in front of me. Like a dog.”
Sam’s eyes went to the kitty-litter box in the corner. She’d had diarrhea earlier, so it stank, even though she’d changed it during Tiffany’s last visit. “That’s gross,” she said.
“Why? You pee in front of your girlfriends, don’t you?”
“They don’t watch me.”
“Come on. We’re both girls.”
Sam’s heart sank. Tiffany didn’t want to see her go to the bathroom. She just wanted to make Sam do something that would leave her feeling worse. She wasn’t very different from Colin.
“No.” She spoke so low she could barely hear herself.
“What’d you say?”
She didn’t respond.
“Damn, you’re stubborn,” Tiffany said in disbelief. “Rover peed in front of me. He didn’t care at all as long as I gave him a piece of toast.”
Sam thought of those marks on the wall. She’d been following Rover’s example by making her own marks, too. “What happened to Rover?”
“None of your business.” She considered the toast, momentarily gloomy again. “Oh, what the hell. Eat it,” she said and tossed it at Sam. “It’s not like I can afford the calories. But if you ever refuse to pee in front of Colin, you’ll regret it. I can tell you that.”
Sam scrambled off the mattress to collect her prize. She was afraid Tiffany would change her mind and take it back, but Tiffany didn’t seem interested in the food anymore. She slid down the opposite wall and started yakking about Colin as if Sam was her best friend. At least Sam thought she was yakking about Colin. She definitely heard his name, but she wasn’t paying attention; she was too focused on wiping every last bit of jelly from the floor.
“It’s going to be fine,” Tiffany was saying. “I’ve been worried for nothing. Colin loves me, he just has some anger issues, you know?”
“Uh-huh,” Sam said. But she had no idea what Tiffany’s words meant. She was only responding to the lift in her voice, keeping Tiffany preoccupied so she could enjoy the first normal food she’d had in what seemed like forever. The butter was oh, so sweet….
“A lot of people have anger issues,” Tiffany rambled on. “He’ll work through them. He’d never let his anger come between us. You should see the roses he left me.”
Roses or no, Samantha knew Colin had more “issues” than anger—he was screwed up in a major way, like that creepy guy in Suburbia.
“He’s handsome, don’t you think?” Tiffany asked.
Sam had just swa
llowed the last bite of her toast. Closing her eyes, she chewed slowly, savoring it as long as possible—
“I asked you a question.” Tiffany’s voice was suddenly filled with irritation. “Jeez, how much can someone worship a piece of bread? I don’t get any more food than you do.”
“What’d you say?” Sam asked.
“I said Colin’s handsome, don’t you think?”
Sam clamped her mouth shut and glared over at her.
Tiffany stood. “What? Don’t tell me you want to say no.”
“He’s not handsome,” she said. “He’s the ugliest man I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s not nice!”
Sam wasn’t sure where the hateful words came from. Even as they spewed out of her mouth she knew she’d regret it, and yet she couldn’t stop. “He’s evil and twisted and I hope he gets in a car accident on his way home from work and dies a bloody death! I’d dance on his grave because the world would be a much better place without him! And you! If you knew anything at all about…anything…you wouldn’t help him. That makes you as evil as he is. You’re both going to hell with all the other monsters who hurt people!”
Tiffany blinked as if she was too stunned to respond. “You little—” she started, but Sam wasn’t finished yet.
“Maybe you’ll kill me. But they’ll catch you, Tiffany. They’ll catch you and they’ll lock you up, and then you’ll be the animal. You’ll rot in a cage until the day you die, and then the demons will come for you, just like those creatures in Ghost. They’ll drag you away to writhe in torment!”
“Vile little bitch!” she screamed when Sam had finally run out of the strength to continue. “You’re going on the leash. And I’m never bringing you another treat as long as you live!” When she flounced to the door, Sam followed. She had to make a break for it. This was her only chance. But Tiffany easily shoved her back.
There was silence for several seconds. Then the door opened again and Tiffany stomped in, carrying a leash. “How dare you talk to me that way! Rover was sweet compared to you. And I’m glad you don’t care about dying because Colin’s probably going to kill you as soon as he gets home! You think you and Rover are the only pets we’ve had? Heck no! The body of the last girl is rotting in the bottom of an outhouse!”
Suddenly terrified by what she might have caused, Sam cowered in the corner. “What’re you doing?” she whimpered.
“You’ll see. You’ll quit being such a spoiled brat after a few days of wearing this.”
Sam wrestled with her. But in her current state, she was no match for Tiffany, who wouldn’t back off even when Sam started shouting about germs and mono. After forcing a chainlike collar over her head, Tiffany yanked it so tight Sam couldn’t breathe. She rolled on the ground gasping for air while Tiffany stood above her, nostrils flaring with anger as much as exertion. “How do you like that?” she taunted, yanking it still tighter.
Sam couldn’t answer. Spots danced before her eyes, and in the next instant, she saw nothing at all.
* * *
It wasn’t the first time Zoe had slept in her car. When she’d left home at seventeen in the old VW bug her father had bought her, she and Samantha had spent more nights in the backseat huddled up for warmth than they had in a hotel or apartment. Without a high-school diploma, Zoe couldn’t get much of a job, and she hadn’t had anyone to take care of Sam even if she could’ve found work. So they’d bounced around the state, living out of her car or in shelters—when she wasn’t with a boyfriend who could help her provide a more stable existence. If that boyfriend was trustworthy and willing to watch Sam, Zoe worked in fast-food places at night. But her relationships never lasted long enough for her to get ahead. She’d always been attracted to rebels, or artist types with big dreams but little sense of responsibility—the exact opposite of Anton Lucassi, which was why she’d expected that relationship to work. He was what every mother told her daughter to look for.
Maybe she and Anton would’ve been more compatible had there been less of an age gap, had her background been different, had he not been jaded by the residual damage left by his first wife. He was too cautious to really love again, and she was too distrustful to love at all.
So here she was, in the middle of another breakup. She was sort of relieved she wouldn’t have to listen to Anton’s constant, and sometimes nagging, advice. He could be such a know-it-all. But it was discouraging to think she couldn’t seem to make any relationship succeed.
Sitting straight, she stretched a painful kink out of her neck, then took inventory of what she had in her purse. She had to rally, stave off the pain of her current situation by being practical. This wasn’t the first time she’d been down and out. She’d overcome it, regroup. But how? What assets did she possess that she might use to find her daughter and build a new life?
Her wallet contained a couple of hundred bucks, and she had a Visa card with three thousand in available credit—provided Anton didn’t shut it down. His name was on the card, too, as the primary; chances were, he’d close the account as soon as his conscience would allow it. She could’ve rented a cheap motel room, but if he didn’t close the account, every dollar spent on herself was a dollar less to put toward the search for Sam.
With a sigh, she twisted around to gaze at the garbage bags stuffed in her backseat. Together with the suitcases in the trunk, they held everything she and Sam owned. But even if she sold it all, together with her engagement ring, she’d never make enough to offer a sizable reward. Pawned engagement rings and used clothing didn’t go for a premium.
She’d thought of going to Jonathan. But they’d barely met. She didn’t want to jump from one relationship to another, not when she was in this state. It wasn’t fair to expect him to help her. So…
“What now?” she muttered, staring dejectedly out the window. After leaving the house, she’d driven to the airport, where she’d gotten through the rest of the night by pretending she’d found Sam and they were about to take off on a vacation to Mexico. It was light now, but she refused to let go of that dream. She stared at the planes, imagining it all….
Mesmerized by the sound and movement, she continued to watch; she wasn’t sure how long. The sun was quite a bit higher in the sky when she finally dragged herself out of her lethargy. She couldn’t sit here and do nothing, she told herself, couldn’t collapse beneath the despair. Sam was counting on her.
Silently promising her daughter that she’d hold tough, Zoe retrieved her cell phone from where it had gotten wedged between her seat and the console, and called Detective Thomas.
He wasn’t in. It was after eight o’clock, but just barely, and that was obviously too early. Other people still had regular lives.
She pictured him sitting at breakfast with his wife, enjoying a second cup of coffee before heading in to the office, and couldn’t help resenting him for not being available. She had no right to expect more than he was doing. He’d been responsive, was checking out every lead, keeping an eye on the shelters, talking to the neighbors. But it was just a job to him. Sam’s case wasn’t very different from all the others that needed to be solved.
Curling her fingernails into the palm of her free hand, Zoe called Skye. She hated to ask her friend for more help. The Last Stand was already paying for Jonathan and had funded their trip to Los Angeles. But she knew she’d do anything, even beg in the street, if it meant finding her child. She needed to get more media coverage. Someone had to have seen her daughter. Maybe Skye had contacts who could help them distribute a new press release, get Sam’s picture on TV again.
The phone rang three times, but at that point a beep signaled an incoming call. Expecting it to be the detective she’d just tried to reach, she switched over.
“Hello?”
“Hey, how’s it goin’?”
It wasn’t Thomas; it was her former neighbor, Colin Bell.
The sound of his voice immediately evoked the memory of his drunken behavior last night.
“I’m fine,
” she lied. Because she no longer trusted his motives, she no longer wanted his help or support. She’d do this herself, which was what life always came down to for her, anyway. “How’re you?”
“Embarrassed and worried.”
She didn’t want to hear why. Despite that one bright spot when he’d gone with her to create the flyers, she preferred to avoid him. But he charged ahead before she could respond.
“I’m sorry about my behavior last night, Zoe. Tiffany told me I was acting like a lecher, and it probably frightened you. I don’t know what got into me.”
“I’d say it was one drink too many.”
“It was several drinks too many,” he said. “Sometimes I let the pressure at work bother me and I drink too much. But that’s no excuse for making what you’re going through worse.”
If he’d acted cavalier about his behavior, she would’ve remained perturbed, but he seemed so earnest. “Apology accepted.”
“Really?” he said. “You’re not just saying that? I feel like such an ass.”
She smiled. Her neighbor’s overfriendly behavior wasn’t one of her bigger concerns. At least he acknowledged that he’d crossed the line. Considering his contrition and the fact that it was unlikely to happen again now that she wouldn’t be living next door, there was no point in harboring a grudge. And knowing his wife was aware of his behavior was comforting. “Forget it. You weren’t yourself.”
He gave a low whistle. “You’re as generous as you are beautiful, you know that? But I don’t mean anything inappropriate by it, so don’t go all silent on me.”
“Then I’ll simply say thank-you,” she said with a laugh.
“And now for the ‘worried’ part. I ran into Anton when I got in my car to come to work and he said you’d moved out.”
“I have.”
“I hope it didn’t have anything to do with me.”
Echoes of last night made her ill at ease. “Why would it have to do with you?”
“It happened so fast. I was afraid he might’ve made more of our being together at Kinko’s than he should have.”
At this she let her breath go in relief. “No, it wasn’t that. It was…a combination of a lot of things.” Blind hope. Stupidity. Grasping for a personality type that didn’t fit her own. Fortunately, there was no need to go into detail, so she blamed the catalyst. “I guess our relationship couldn’t withstand the strain of having Samantha go missing.”
